


Bodyguard

by montecarlos



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Angst, Bodyguard AU, Gen, Guns, M/M, Romance, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:30:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following some anonymous threats, Lewis Hamilton, a world famous rapper, is assigned the stoic and unfeeling Nico Rosberg as his bodyguard. </p><p>(Or a Bodyguard AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ssilverarrowss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssilverarrowss/gifts).



> This is a birthday fic for the wonderful Lisbeth - the Nico to my Lewis, Sina to my Keke :) Have a wonderful day and I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Lewis doesn’t remember his life changing, he doesn’t remember when he started flying in business class, or onboard his own private jet, he doesn’t remember when the cameras start following him around, snapping every single movement he made. He never started making music for the fame, he made music because it’s what he loved above all else – his first album never really made any waves on the music scene – but his second, _Still I Rise_ seemed to reach heights even Lewis couldn’t have predicted when he was recording the tracks in LA and New York. However, with the release of his album, the media attention seems to intensify. Lewis takes it all in his stride – as he always does – smiling widely for the cameras, waving at them as they follow him around.  
  
However, as his face becomes well-known, splashed across the tabloids, some of the attention becomes less favourable.  Lewis gets used to the sneers, the taunts, people shoving him as he walks past them and he shrugs it away, it’s all part of the package of having his music on the airwaves, the price he has to pay. Therefore, when the letters arrive at his apartment, he thinks nothing of them – he reads them carefully, smile spreading across his face.  
  
_Dear Lewis,_ _  
_ _  
_ _I’m your biggest fan, I think I’m in love with you, your music really inspired me, I really want to be like you, it’s my dream to record a song with you someday. I saw you the other day – you didn’t say hello but I hope that I’ll see you soon, it’s my dream to meet you._ _  
_ _  
_ The flashes seem to go off in his face, there’s a blur of hands and faces – autograph books with his face on are shoved under his nose and he smiles at every person he sees. There seems to be a mass chanting of one name; his own name, as he continues to sign easily across the page before him.

* * *

  
Lewis casts the letter into the bin and thinks nothing more of it – he has a song to record with Jay-Z of all people and he needs to fly to New York. However, when he returns, he finds his letterbox full of letters – most envelopes bearing the same hurried scrawls. He opens one of them up and reads through it, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.  
  
_Dear Lewis,_ _  
_ _  
_ _Why aren’t you responding to any of my letters? Is this how you treat your fans? I thought that you cared about us, that’s what you always said. Why did you throw my last letter in the bin before you went off to New York? That really upset me, you know-_ _  
_ _  
_ Lewis throws the letter to one side and opens another envelope hurriedly, feeling the panic rise inside his chest.  
  
_Dear Lewis,_ _  
_ _  
_ _Where are you? Are you still in New York? I called by your apartment and looked through your bedroom window but you weren’t home. I missed you._ _  
_  
Lewis runs over to the door and draws the lock forward before he moves to close all the curtains, panic twisting inside his chest for a moment. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his breathing, as he puts on his iPod, music bursting through the silence before he grabs handfuls of the letters and throws them into the bin.

* * *

 

“You won’t take the Hamilton job then?” Frank asks, looking at the blonde through the curls of cigarette smoke drifting around his face.  
  
“I told you, I don’t do celebrities, especially not obnoxious ones like him,” The blonde says thoughtfully.  
  
“His manager is offering a lot of money,” Frank says, glancing down at the magazine cover with their prospective new client splashed across the front page. Lewis is talking into his phone – it’s the newest iPhone of course with a customised diamond encrusted case, a velvet jacket and an enormous gold chain.  
  
“Can’t say much for his fashion sense,” The blonde says quietly.  
  
Frank’s fingers dance over one of the blonde’s guns and he smirks. “There’s a lot of money in it for you, you know, why wouldn’t you want to take it?  
  
“Why wouldn’t you offer this job to one of the other guys? Alonso? Button? Raikkonen?” The other man says, glancing down at Frank with dark green eyes.  
  
“Because I’ve been told you’re the best, Nico.” Frank replies, his eyes locked on the blonde.  
  
“There’s no such thing,” Nico says quietly.  
  
“Look, he begged me to get you, he wanted the best,” Frank says after a long pause.  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything immediately. He picks up one of the guns that Frank was just exploring and loads it with an expert hand. “I’ll have a look at the situation and I’ll do it for my usual price,”  
  
“You must be deadly for the prices you charge,” Frank says.  
  
“I am,” Nico says, grinning widely as he fires six shots, one after the other into the wall before him before he unloads the gun, the spare bullets popping into his fingers. Frank looks at the wall before him, at the six shots in a perfect circle cut into the wall.

* * *

  
  
Lewis ignores the threats and travels back at New York to record another song with Jay-Z, the letters soon forgotten as he takes his place in the booth and spits a few verses – one of the producers invites him to do a small intimate gig whilst he’s in the city and Toto agrees reluctantly. Lewis grins widely as he ends up in Jay’s limousine, sipping champagne on the heated leather seats. Everything seems to pass by in a blur as they end up inside a tiny club; full of smoke and warm bodies, the bass pumping through his chest. He feels the smile curl over his face, the sweat stick to his snapback as he spits a few verses to the crowd who cheer and voice their approval of his rhymes. He feels a drink press against his fingers, a wide smile, and he downs the entire thing to cheers from the crowd. However, as more and more drinks pass through his fingers, dance over his tongue, he feel dizzy and disorientated – he moves to get some fresh air in the back alleyway.  
  
Lewis leans against the cold brick, breathing heavily through his mouth as he glances up at the sky – dizzying rays of light dance over his vision as he slumps against the wall, listening to the thumping bass vibrating through the open door. Lewis hears someone call his name and casts his eyes upwards, smiling widely, only to collapse against something soft. He glances up into hard blue eyes, fingers move over his body, hands roughly tugging down his pants.  
  
“No, stop-“ Lewis mutters under his breath.  
  
“Not until you’re mine, you belong to me-“ The voice hisses back, Lewis struggles against the man but his movements are sloppy, his vision dizzy until -  
  
“Hey, get your hands off him!” Toto’s voice booms over the alleyway and Lewis feels himself being wrenched away from the man, Toto’s familiar cologne dancing over his nostrils. He relaxes against his manager’s chest, dizziness still floating within his vision.

* * *

  
  
Lewis wakes up the next morning in a hospital bed, disorientated and groggy – there’s an IV in his arm and his mouth is as dry as the Sahara Desert. Toto’s worried brown eyes dance before him, hovering by the side of his bed.  
  
“What happened?” Lewis croaks out, rubbing his eyes.  
  
“You were drugged, some guy was trying to have his way with you-“ Toto says, worrying his lip. “You really scared me,”  
  
“I’m sorry, Toto,” Lewis says, glancing down at his arm. “Must have been a wild night,” He smiles widely. “And I don’t remember a thing,”  
  
“Lewis-“ Toto begins, his narrowed brown eyes fixed on Lewis. However, before he can continue, his phone begins blaring out. “I need to take this,” He says, leaving the room and leaving Lewis with his own thoughts. Lewis thinks back to the man in the alleyway, he doesn’t recall a face but he remembers something that was said – you belong to me – he thinks back to the letters still screwed up in his bin and sighs heavily.

* * *

  
  
“A bodyguard? No way, Toto, I don’t need a bodyguard,” Lewis insists, crossing his arms. He’s getting changed for some photoshoot with Armani. “I’m not having someone walking around, watching my every move-“  
  
“Lewis, you have to consider your own safety, you need someone to make sure that you’re not harassed by people-“ Toto says, frustration ghosting over his features.  
  
“Toto, I don’t need some beefcake following my every move-“ Lewis begins but he’s cut off as a beautiful man walks into the changing area – Lewis feels his mouth drop open at the sight of the man – golden blonde hair swept back from his face, chiselled cheekbones, a toned and muscular body hidden underneath a tight t-shirt and leather jacket. Bright green eyes burn into Lewis.  
  
“Who are you?” Lewis says, his eyes raking over the man before him.  
  
“I’m your new bodyguard, Nico Rosberg,” The blonde man says, holding out his hand for Lewis to shake.  
  
“That’s nice,” Lewis says, smiling sweetly at the blonde – at Nico – “but I won’t be requiring your services, I can look after myself,”  
  
“That should make my job a little easier then,” Nico smiles back, his eyes meeting Lewis’s as though it’s a challenge. “I can assure you that I’m not a beefcake that is going to follow you to the shower,”  
  
“Lovely,” Lewis says, the smile still ghosting over his face. “Toto,” He glances at his manager. “I really don’t need a bodyguard, I’m more than capable of dealing with this situation and the letters on my own-“  
  
“What letters?” Toto asks, confusion dancing over his features.  
  
Lewis’s eyes widen in realisation at his words. “It doesn’t matter, they’re nothing-“  
  
“What letters are these, Lewis?” Toto repeats.  
  
Lewis sighs, glancing at Nico for a moment, trying to ignore the steel in his dark green eyes. “They’re nothing, they’re not important at all,”  
  
Toto fixes his client with a look and Lewis sighs.

* * *

  
  
Lewis ends up telling Toto everything, about the letters that he keeps receiving, he ignores the glare from the blonde across the room.  
  
“Well then, it’s final,” Toto says as Lewis finishes his piece. “I think we will definitely require your services, Mr Rosberg,”

Lewis opens his mouth to argue but Mr Rosberg – Nico – levels him with a glance. “Look, I am aware of your concerns, Princess, that it won’t suit your brand with a suit following you around, but let me tell you, I have friends who are bodyguards for Kanye and Jay-Z, 50 Cent still sends me a Christmas card for my services,”  
  
Lewis glares back. “If you’re trying to impress me, I’m afraid that it won’t work, Mr Rosberg. I’m capable of looking after myself, I don’t need some bodyguard to save me from some psycho who sends me a few letters,”  
  
“What letters are these? Can we take a look?” Nico asks, cocking his head slightly.  
  
“I threw them away…they were just some crazy guy saying he wanted to meet me and make music with me, Toto is just fussing as always,” Lewis says as he glances at himself in the mirror, hands smoothing over the lapels of the suit.  
  
“Lewis, I wouldn’t have hired you a bodyguard if I didn’t think it was necessary,” Toto argues. “We’re paying Mr Rosberg a lot of money to look after you-“  
  
“Can’t you get a refund?” Lewis says, his brown eyes aflame.  
  
Nico stifles a laugh. “Well, if you don’t need a bodyguard, mind if I stick around for a few days and check things are in order?”  
  
“Sure, I guess, Toto’s chequebook is paying you, not me,” Lewis says, smoothing the lint off his suit as he stalks out of the changing area.  
  
Nico watches him go, sighing heavily. “I think I’ve got my work cut out for me,”

* * *

  
  
Lewis has a gig that night – Nico stands in the wings, watching the dark-skinned man bring the crowd to life as he spits rhyme after rhyme into the microphone. Nico truly sees the real Lewis in that moment – the smiling young man who doesn’t have to worry about portraying the right image to the people before him – the person who just truly loves music. Nico fiddles with the gun in the holster sitting by the side of his thigh as he watches Lewis bathed in the soft lights on the stage – the crowd call out Lewis’s name, call out various songs – as Lewis smiles and the next song begins, Lewis launching himself into the melody.  
  
However, Nico allows himself to relax for a moment too long, his fingers slacken on his gun for a second and Lewis decides to launch himself forward into the baying crowd. He seems to disappear amongst the crowd and Nico panics as he spots the hands pawing at Lewis, the dark-skinned man grinning widely, his tooth gap on display as he is carried away, laughing and joking.

“Does he usually do this?” Nico says to Toto who is standing next to the blonde bodyguard, worrying his lip.  
  
“This is quite tame for Lewis,” Toto says with worry in his voice.  
  
“That idiot,” Nico says, his eyes still on Lewis, his fingers grazing the cool metal of his gun. He jumps off the side of the stage, the crowd parting where his boot hits the floor. He pushes his way through the crowd, eyes still locked on Lewis. His fingers are on his gun as Lewis finally manages to get down to the ground, he’s still clutching the microphone in his hand, the gold chain still gleaming under the lights. People are still grabbing at him, their hands tangling on his t-shirt, grabbing onto his chain, eager to get a piece of him. Nico ignores the pumping bass, he ignores the screaming crowd and he ignores Lewis’s smile as he surges forward and pulls Lewis out of the crowd.  
  
“Get off me,” Lewis hisses as he’s pulled away by Nico, his brown eyes narrowing with anger as he tries to twist away from the blonde but Nico holds him fast, his face marred with frustration.

* * *

  
  
“What on earth were you thinking?” Nico spits when Lewis eventually finds his way backstage, Nico is still holding onto Lewis’s t-shirt. The singer looks furious; his eyes blazing as he tries to pull away from the blonde. Nico however, keeps his hold on him and glares.  
  
“Get off me you idiot,” Lewis snarls again, “I told you I didn’t need a bodyguard,”  
  
“Because you were perfectly fine launching yourself into a crowd of people that you know nothing about, you compromised your own safety,”  
  
“Look, that’s my own business,” Lewis says. “I wanted to do something different,”  
  
“You’re an idiot,” Nico hisses, finally letting the dark-skinned man go.  
  
“And you’ve got a huge stick up your ass, you only care because you’re getting paid,” Lewis sneers, pushing a hand through his hair.  
  
“Look,” Nico says quietly, his eyes burning into Lewis’s. “I’m not happy about this arrangement either, I find you rude, condescending and almost child-like, but I have an obligation. I said that I would keep you safe and I intend to carry out my contract. So you can either suck it up or you can make it difficult for yourself,”  
  
Lewis narrows his eyes. “Just stay out of my way, blondie,”  
  
“That’s going to be a hard thing to achieve, Mr Hamilton,” Nico says, shaking his head. “Look, just let me do my job,”  
  
The small smile that Lewis gives the blonde is confirmation that the rapper has no intention of allowing Nico to do his job easily.

* * *

  
  
Toto slides the folder over to Nico; the blonde opens it carefully, his eyes ghosting through the pile – each letter is identical, typed up on a word document and printed out on generic white paper. Nico carefully glances through them – there’s a few photos of Lewis scattered amongst them, they have crude messages written next to them but the writing barely impacts the paper.  
  
“Lewis gave us these a few days ago,” Toto says, worrying his lip. “He said he threw a bunch out just before he went to record a track with Jay Z,”  
  
“The writing on these photographs is barely noticeable, like the pen barely met the paper. Somebody obviously didn’t want their marks all over it,”  
  
“We had them all screened for fingerprints and the envelopes for traces of saliva, but there’s no DNA on them, the only fingerprints are from Lewis when he opened them,” Toto says, watching Nico carefully pull a few of the letters out of the pile and place them to one side. “We were told you were in the Secret Service,”  
  
Nico answers with a nod, his eyes still fixed on the letters.  
  
“Ever guard the big man?” Toto asks.  
  
“Two years with Obama and four years with Ecclestone,” Nico says quietly.  
  
“Didn’t Ecclestone get shot?” Toto cuts in, his eyes still locked on the blonde.  
  
There’s the quirk of a smile on Nico’s lips. “It wasn’t on my shift,”  
  
He separates a few letters out and skims over the rest. “I’ll keep hold of these ones, and throw the rest away, these ones might be interesting later on,” He’s cut off by Toto’s phone slicing through the silence. Toto immediately picks it up and answers the call.  
  
“Lewis?”  
  
Nico’s head snaps up almost instantly as the worry spreads over the older man’s face. “What? Just slow down…what’s happened?” There’s a pause as Nico stands up from the table and shrugs on his leather jacket, watching Toto’s face. “Okay, we’re coming over…just hang in there,”  
  
Nico is sliding one of his guns into the holster still strapped around his leg when Toto ends the call. “Is he at his apartment?”  
  
“Yes,” Toto says, stuffing his phone into his pocket. “He said that somebody had been into his apartment without him knowing and they left a note-“  
  
“I’ve got your car keys,” Nico says. He smiles at Toto’s look of exasperation. “What? Your Mercedes will be faster,” He says, trying to ignore his heart beating against his chest. He takes a deep breath, his fingers curling around the keys.  
  
Toto sighs heavily.

* * *

  
  
“Mr Hamilton?” Nico shouts out as they enter the apartment, Toto hidden behind Nico, the gun outstretched in front of him, his finger is on the trigger, itching, hovering -  
  
“Toto?” Lewis’s voice calls out, it sounds a little shaky, like the man has been crying. “Toto, is that you?”  
  
“Lewis,” Toto calls out from behind Nico as the blonde stalks forward, the gun still poised at the room before them, the light spilling out into the darkened hallway. “Lewis, where are you?”  
  
“In the bedroom,” Lewis calls out, his voice sounds wet and hurried, like he’s having trouble breathing. Nico moves forward, his finger still hovering over the trigger as he surges forward into the room. However, the sight before him makes his finger slide away from the trigger, the gun lowers as he takes in Lewis’s tear-stained, pale face.  
  
“What happened?” Nico asks, his voice cutting through Lewis’s sniffles.  
  
Lewis says nothing as he points one shaky finger towards the bed; the sheets of Lewis’s bed are rumpled and there’s a familiar note lying on the sheets, neatly typed up. Nico moves forward to snag the note from the bed. It’s short – obviously from the same person as the others, the font and font point is identical.  
  
_Dear Lewis,_

 _I let myself into your flat. I thought of you when I pleasured myself on your bed. I hope you don’t mind. Maybe next time, you’ll be here and we can have some real fun._ _  
_ _  
_ Nico glances over the note before he brushes past Lewis to the window. He takes in the sight of the window for a moment, careful not to touch anything. “I think he entered via this window,” He says almost to himself. “There’s a fire escape right outside, and the window seems to have been wrenched open, I bet there’s a mark on the other side…we should call the police, get forensics in here,”  
  
“I don’t want any trouble,” Lewis cuts in, shaking his head.  
  
“Mr Hamilton, somebody has entered your apartment without permission, they’ve sat on your bed and-“  
  
“Don’t you think I don’t know that?” Lewis hisses under his breath. “And though the thought of it disgusts me, what am I going to say if the press find out about this? I’ve got a creepy stalker who gets himself off on my bed, how is that going to look?”  
  
“It’s only the police we’re contacting, not Hello magazine,” Nico argues, his gun still clutched in his hands. “You’re not safe here,”  
  
“Thank you again, Mr Rosberg, for stating the obvious. Where would I be without your knowledge and wisdom?” Lewis snarls, folding his arms.  
  
“Look, I’m just trying to do my job, Mr Hamilton, and keep you safe,” Nico argues back, his face red with anger.  
  
“And how do you intend to do that? You were supposed to be keeping me safe and the stalkers managed to gift me a letter in a puddle of his own semen, some bodyguard you are-“  
  
Nico pinches his temples, trying to ignore the sharp ache that is descending over his head. “I’ll stay here tonight,”  
  
“What?” Lewis’s eyes widen with shock. “You can’t stay the night – where are you going to sleep?”  
  
“Mr Hamilton, it’s clear from tonight that you require twenty four hour protection, until I can sort another person to cover me in the morning, I’m afraid that I will have to watch you,” Nico says, trying to keep his voice calm and controlled.  
  
“You are not watching me sleep,” Lewis says, shaking his head. “I’ll stay in a hotel or something, but you’re not sitting in the room with me,” He moves to grab one of his bags and begins throwing items of clothing into it – Nico watches as the dark-skinned man brushes past him, muttering to himself. Nico watches him, glances over the diamond earrings shining in his ears, over the Hugo Boss cologne tickling his nostrils and feels something brush over his chest.  
  
He ends up staying in the room next to Lewis’s, after a thorough check of said room and of the area around it. He barely sleeps, his fingers curled around his gun as he listens out for any movement, any locks breaking in the night. But none of them come, Lewis’s room remains silent and Nico’s eyes slowly fall shut just as the sun begins to creep through the gap in the curtains. His grip remains on the gun however, even in sleep.

* * *

  
  
Toto asks him for a quick meeting when he wakes up in the morning, he sits in the chair rubbing his tired eyes, his gun sitting in its ever present holster. Toto slides into the chair and pushes an envelope forward. Nico takes it, eyebrow raised, and pulls out the contents. There’s a thick stack of letters in his hands, with a familiar font on familiar generic white paper.  
  
“What are these?” Nico asks, sensing he already knows the answer.  
  
“They began arriving a few months ago at the studio, I ignored them at first, I figured that they were just the usual crazy fan letters he was given…Still I Rise hit the shelves and there seemed to be at least five new ones coming in every day…then he started sending in photos of Lewis in various places, outside his apartment, inside the studio with a long lens,”  
  
“And you didn’t tell Lewis about these photos?” Nico says, glancing over the letters.  
  
“I didn’t want to worry him, he had so much going on with the new album and everything-“  
  
“You didn’t want him to worry that somebody was following him around with a camera and taking photos of his every move?” Nico argues, his eyes locked on the older man.  
  
Toto worries his lip between his teeth. “I didn’t think it would be an issue, I figured it was just a few press shots he’d gotten hold of,”  
  
“Press shots of him through a window in the studio?” Nico says, his tone incredulous. “Look, you and your people clearly haven’t got a clue how serious this situation is,” He pauses for a moment. “Look, I can’t protect him. I can’t protect Lewis and I can’t be responsible for his safety if he doesn’t know what is going on, _everything_ that is going on,”  
  
Toto nods once and doesn’t say anything else. Nico ignores the headache that is brushing against his temples as he takes a few of the letters from the pile that seem to interest him once more, Toto’s dark eyes fixed on him.

* * *

  
  
“I know it was you,” Lewis says out of nowhere as he slides the Armani suit jacket on, the make-up woman bustles around him with her powder and her brushes, making sure that his face stays flawless. Nico looks up from his newspaper, his eyes ghosting over the tight navy suit that Lewis is wearing, to the man’s brown eyes locked on him.  
  
“You know what was me?” He asks, his tone almost bored.  
  
“Toto said that you forced him to tell me about the letters that he’d been receiving at the studio,” Lewis replies, pursing his lips as the woman carefully applies some cream concealer to a blotchy mark on his neck. “You told him you couldn’t protect me,” His tone is almost accusatory.  
  
“I said I couldn’t protect you if you weren’t aware of all the facts,” Nico says, glancing through one of the high fashion magazines with a bored expression. He stops on a photo of Lewis modelling for one of the lines. “You know I think they photoshopped you a little too much here,”  
  
Lewis raises an eyebrow as he smooths down the lapels of the suit. “Why is me knowing everything so important? You can’t protect me if I don’t know something? What kind of screwed up logic is that?”  
  
“Because if you don’t know all the facts, you may protest against some of the things I do to keep you alive. If you protest against them, it could be the difference between life and death,” Nico says, shutting the magazine. “You and your manager have failed to see how serious this is-“  
  
“Wow, aren’t you a ray of sunshine in the morning,” Lewis mutters under his breath.  
  
“Mr Hamilton-“  
  
“I mean, I found out that I’ve been nominated for a Grammy an hour ago and now you’re here bringing the mood down, talking about death-“  
  
“A Grammy?” Nico says, confused.  
  
“Yes, Mr Rosberg, they’re like the music equivalent of an Oscar,” Lewis says, rolling his eyes.  
  
“I’m aware of what a Grammy is, Mr Hamilton, I was just shocked into silence that they would consider you for one-“ Nico fires back – he’s already thinking about the media coverage, how much more there will be surrounding Lewis and makes a mental note to talk to some of his old colleagues to see if he can work out a protective schedule.  
  
“I must have shocked the world too, because I’ve been nominated for two,” Lewis says as his phone beeps. He opens up the message, his brown eyes ghosting over it. “Oh, and Toto just told me that my album just went double platinum,”  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything else, he just quirks an eyebrow and smiles.

* * *

  
  
They end up at some awards ceremony – some pre-Grammy party full of music producers and hangers-on, Lewis is flitting between people dressed in a black, sequinned suit, his diamond earrings glinting in the bright light as he sweeps between varios groups of people, accepting the hugs and kisses to his cheeks. Nico keeps his distance, his hand on his gun, hidden beneath his black suit, his eyes constantly following Lewis around the venue. Lewis grabs two glasses of champagne from a waiter with a beautiful smile and moves over to Nico.  
  
“Enjoying yourself, Mr Rosberg?” Lewis says, his eyes are slightly glassy and his lips are pink. He attempts to press the champagne glass into Nico’s hands.  
  
“I can’t, Mr Hamilton, I’m working,” Nico says, gently pushing the glass away.  
  
Lewis pouts a little as he downs one of the glasses in one go, wiping his lips afterwards and depositing the empty glass on the tray of a missing waiter. “Tell me, Mr Rosberg, do you ever let loose?” He moves forward, the other glass still curved in his hands, his eyes locked on Nico. Nico however, manages to catch Lewis before he pitches forward, his eyes ghost over the slighter dark-skinned man, his hand hovering over Nico’s chest, over the pressed white shirt.  
  
“I’m working, Mr Hamilton, as I said-“ Nico says, his arm protectively curving over Lewis’s bicep to hold him steady.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Lewis says, waving a hand as though to dismiss Nico’s words as he downs the other glass of champagne. “You need to keep me safe, whatever that means,”  
  
Nico’s hand curves over Lewis’s. “I think you should ease up on the champagne, Mr Hamilton, it’s easy for you to let your guard down,”  
  
Lewis’s eyes seem to darken. “You’d like that wouldn’t you Mr Rosberg? If I let my guard down-“ He whispers against the pale skin, his hand ghosting over Nico’s suit, dizziness washing over him.  
  
“Mr Hamilton,” Nico manages to spit out, he tries to ignore how good Lewis feels against his body, the warmth radiating from Lewis’s palms spread out against his shirt. “You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re doing,”  
  
“But you know what you’re doing,” Lewis whispers, his hands moving to ghost over Nico’s gun. “You’re so sure of everything, so sure and confident of yourself,” His fingers hover on the holster. “Are you sure of this?”  
  
“Mr Hamilton-“ Nico begins, hating how weak his voice sounds. He gently pushes the slighter man away, ignoring the thudding of his heart against his ribcage. “This is unprofessional conduct, I must insist that I take you home-“  
  
“You’re so boring,” Lewis whines under his breath.  “The night is still young, Mr Rosberg, I plan on staying for hours…but if you’d rather take me home now then-“  
  
“I will call somebody else to accompany you home,” Nico says, grabbing his phone from his pocket.  
  
“Why?” Lewis says, his voice is husky. “Don’t you trust yourself?”  
  
“Mr Hamilton,” Nico begins. “It’s nothing to do with that, I’ve been on shift watching you for twelve hours, I have to go and rest myself,”  
  
“You’re not fun,” Lewis begins, his tone whiny. However, a dark haired man ends up standing by his side, beaming widely. The dark-skinned man glances at the new arrival, blinking slowly.  
  
“Ah, Dan, right on time,” Nico says, smiling widely. “Mr Hamilton, Daniel here is going to take over and babysit you for the remainder of the evening,”  
  
Lewis lets his eyes ghost over the blonde man before him. “I hope that you’re more fun than Mr Rosberg, Mr-?”  
  
“Mr Ricciardo,” The man gives him a wide smile. “But you can call me Dan,”  
  
Lewis smiles back, grabbing another glass of champagne from the waiter who is passing by. He tips the glass down, swallowing the fizzy liquid down and fixing the two men with a smile. He curves his hand around Dan’s shoulder, leaning in, his eyes still glassy. “So you’re going to look after me, huh?”  
  
“Yes, I’m very good at my job,” Dan says with a smile.  
  
Nico takes that as his cue to leave, giving the Australian a small weak smile as he leaves the club, he tries not to worry about Lewis as he begins the short walk back to his apartment – Lewis is in safe hands, Nico had handpicked the other members of the security team and he and Dan had worked together protecting President Ecclestone many years ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, back when things were easy, when mistakes had not been made – Nico doesn’t even bother to pull off his suit before he sinks down on his bed, his fingers move to slide over the cool metal of his gun.  He feels himself be pulled into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

  
  
Nico is pulled out of his sleep by an incessant buzzing. He wipes the sleep free of his eyes as he shifts over in bed to glance over at the clock by his bed. 3:54AM the green glowing numbers declare. He snatches up his phone and answers the call, pushing a hand through his hair.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Mr Rosberg?” Lewis’s voice filters through the speaker. He sounds slightly shaken, like he’s been crying. “Mr Rosberg?”  
  
“Mr Hamilton?” Nico says, shooting out of the bed as fast as he can and running to slip on his shoes. “Why are you calling me? Where is Dan? Is he with you?”  
  
“I left him back to the club, I wanted to get home and catch up on my sleep, but, but-“ Lewis’s words die on his lips. Nico grabs his keys and stalks down the stairs of his apartment building, trying to ignore the pressure building in his chest.  
  
“Did something happen? Is somebody there?” Nico says, trying to keep his voice even.  
  
“He’s been here – he’s got in again, he left a note on my bed, telling me that he can’t wait to k-kill me-“ Lewis’s voice cracks on the last two words, a sob tears itself from his throat.  
  
“I’m on my way,” Nico says. “Just stay on the phone with me, okay?” He slides into his Mercedes and starts the engine, pulling out of the garage quickly. His heart races as he begins to drive down the road, he can hear the silence in Lewis’s apartment on the other end of the line – he can hear the man’s ragged breathing, panting for gasps of air and tries to calm his heart beating against his rib cage.

* * *

  
  
Nico takes the stairs to Lewis’s penthouse apartment two at a time, his gun already drawn before his foot leaves the first step. He opens the door tentatively, just in case Lewis has been snatched and the kidnapper is waiting for him on the other end of the door with Lewis’s head tucked up next to his gun but he finds no such thing. He searches through the apartment, finding no sign of anyone. He opens the door to Lewis’s bedroom with trepidation, only to find Lewis curled up against the wall. He’s still dressed in his suit from the party, his tie is slackened ever so slightly. His chest is heaving up and down as he rocks back and forth in an attempt to calm his breathing, his dark brown eyes are haunting – Nico has never seen Lewis look so terrified.  
Nico glances around the room, his eyes resting on the window which is firmly closed before he holsters his gun and drops down on his knees in front of Lewis.  
  
“Mr Hamilton?” He tries to keep his voice calm and soft. He doesn’t reach out and touch the man – he can sense the anxiety coming off Lewis in waves. Lewis lifts his head slightly – as though he’s in a daze – Nico notices that he’s still holding his phone in a deathly tight grip, his knuckles are almost white – and his brown eyes connect with Nico’s green ones.  
  
“Mr Hamilton-“ Nico begins. Lewis’s eyes are still glassy, as though he’s not sure where he is. His brow is ruffled with confusion. “Are you alright?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Lewis says, his voice is barely audible. “I’m sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night. I got a taxi back to my place and I got in, and I saw the bedroom light was on and I remember turning it off before I left and there it was-“ He finishes, his voice still shaky as his eyes focus on the bed behind Nico.  
  
Nico turns his head slightly to follow Lewis’s gaze, they lock on the familiar white sheet of paper lying in the middle of the bed. There’s something else however, there’s a bullet embedded in the wall that Nico knows wasn’t there before. It’s clearly been fired from a gun, the bullet is holding a small square of paper against the wall. The words – remember who you belong to – are scrawled on the paper in red ink. However as Nico moves to go and collect it, a hand reaches out and grabs him around the wrist.  
  
“Don’t leave me, please-“ Lewis whispers, his eyes still full of fear. “What if he’s still here-“  
  
“He’s not here anymore,” Nico says, softly, his thumb traces over Lewis’s hand. “I checked as I came in,”  
  
Lewis nods and opens his mouth once. “I’m sorry again, Mr Rosberg. I called Toto but he didn’t pick up and I didn’t know Jenson’s number, you were the only person I could call,”  
  
“It’s okay, it’s part of my contract,” Nico says, looking into Lewis’s brown eyes – there’s hints of gold glinting in the soft light of his bedroom.  
  
“Thank you, Mr Rosberg,” Lewis says and he sounds like he means it.  
  
“Call me Nico,” Nico replies, his thumb still stroking over Lewis’s dark skin. “Mr Rosberg makes me think of my army training and nobody wants to remember that,”  
  
“Nico,” Lewis says – it sounds right, the words curving around Lewis’s swollen damp lips, his breath barely ghosting over Nico’s face. “Will you stay the night?” He says, dropping his gaze down to the floor. “I wouldn’t ask, only I-“ The words fall away from his tongue.  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything else. They both sit on the floor for a while, surrounded by silence, Nico’s fingers still brushing against Lewis’s skin. After what seems like a lifetime, Lewis eventually makes his way to the bed, stripping himself out of his suit – Nico tries not to glance over bare dark skin, over caramel coloured hipbones almost teasing from beneath Lewis’s Calvin Kleins – Lewis slips into the bed and glances up at Nico for a moment, watching the blonde settle himself into the chair by Lewis’s bed, his hand still locked around his gun.  
  
“I have you,” Nico whispers as Lewis’s eyes slowly begin to close.  
  
He feels he’s witnessed a softer side to the rapper, one hiding underneath the fancy gold chains and the rhymes and the fast cars and private jets, a person who is vulnerable, who is afraid to let anyone else see his softer side. He tries not to think about Michael – he tries not to think about the bullet ripping through his chest, the pained blue eyes staring back at him, Michael’s lips forming around one word – his name. Nico reaches out for Michael, calls out his name, begs for him to come back – but Michael doesn’t listen. Nico awakens from his light slumber with tears on his cheeks, his hold still iron-like around his gun. Lewis is still sleeping soundly, his chest gently rising and falling underneath the duvet. Nico wipes the tears away as his grip tightens around the gun.


	2. Two

"What do you mean I need heightened security measures?” Lewis says, folding his arms and fixing Nico with a glare.  
  
“In light of current events,” Nico says, ignoring the glare fixed on his shoulders. “I have decided that it is in your best interests, that you are in need of more security measures,”  
  
“What kind of security measures are we talking about?” Lewis asks, his glare unwavering. “I’m not having some beefcake sleeping in the same room as me,”  
  
“You were content to let me do that,” Nico says, smiling at the blush that dances over Lewis’s cheeks at his comment. “I’m only talking about a few things – we’re going to have put a tracker in your phone and you’re going to need at least one member of security with you at all times-“  
  
“A tracker in my phone? Are you serious?” Lewis argues, feeling the colour spread across his cheeks. “I’m not comfortable with having someone tracking my phone and following my every move, Nico,”  
  
“It’s necessary for your protection,” Nico pinches his temples, ignoring the pain spreading across his forehead. “Toto wants you to be safe, I’ve discussed this with him already and he’s happy-“  
  
“Of course, he’s happy,” Lewis yells out, angrily. “He’s not the one who is getting followed around by a team of security guys with guns ready to shoot someone every time they touch him, he’s not the one whose privacy is getting invaded every second-“  
  
“Wasn’t your privacy already invaded when you decided to release your platinum however many times album?” Nico says, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Your entire life is in the papers, you only have to breath and somebody calls it a world exclusive,”  
  
“I didn’t ask for this-“ Lewis begins.  
  
“Nobody asks for it,” Nico snaps. “Fame always has a price, Mr Hamilton. You may not like the price that you are given but it’s a side effect of allowing people to hear what you have created. You may not like the measures but they’re _necessary_ , I can assure you,”  
  
Lewis’s brown eyes stay fixed on Nico as he walks away from the rapper.

* * *

  
  
They’re at another gig, Nico’s fingers curled around his gun as he watches Lewis on the stage – dressed up in his outfit, his earrings gleaming in his ears, the chain winding around his neck, the tattoos skimming over the dark skin – Lewis becomes a different person when he’s on the stage, Nico had worked that out a while ago – he cannot be a vulnerable person underneath the harsh lights. He has a different persona – Nico decides that he prefers the real Lewis, the one that steps out from underneath the lights, the one that curls up in his hoodie after a gig against the door of the limousine, looking soft and vulnerable.  
  
Lewis eventually comes off stage, looking exhausted as he throws his microphone at some unsuspecting aide as he stomps off towards his dressing room, pulling off his chains as he goes. Nico follows him, silently, his hands still on his gun as he watches the rapper shed his uniform, his armour – he pulls on a thick, oversized grey hoodie as he slumps down into the chair.  
  
“Anyone interesting in the crowd, Nico?” He asks, his voice is still slightly hoarse from screaming, shouting and encouraging the people in the audience to sing along.  
  
“Nope, I guess that London isn’t such an interesting place anymore,” Nico says, smiling widely. “You’re different on stage, by the way,”  
  
“Different, how?” Lewis asks, taking a pull of his water bottle.  
  
“Well, when I was first offered the job, I did a lot of research on you,” Nico says quietly. “I found you a bit of an asshole, I thought you were spoilt, that you took the tough guy rapper persona a little too far, but I-“  
  
“Yeah?” Lewis says, cocking his head.  
  
“I was wrong, I guess,” Nico says softly.  
  
“I did my own digging on you too,” Lewis admits after a long pause. He glances at himself in the mirror, glances over his make-up still smeared on his face, over the tattoos brushing over his neck. “I had to make sure that you were who you said, I made sure that Toto did his homework. He was ready to get any old bodyguard but I had to have the best…that’s the reason I was a dick, I had to make sure that you were good enough to protect me,”  
  
Nico feels a small smile curl over his lips. “I know, I always had an idea you were testing me,”  
  
“There was one thing that intrigued me though,” Lewis says, still glancing at his own reflection before he turns his eyes to lock on Nico. “You spent two years serving Obama, you spent four with President Ecclestone, you then went to guard someone called Michael Schumacher-“ He pauses for a moment. “Then you seem to disappear off the map altogether,”  
  
Nico’s face is pale. “That’s none of your concern, Mr Hamilton,”  
  
“Well, that’s what I thought at first, but I went and did a little more digging – and I found out that you were the bodyguard of Schumacher and that he was killed on your shift-“  
  
“I…I-“ Nico begins, his grip on his gun slackens as he stares at Lewis. “I’m not discussing this with you,”  
  
“I didn’t ask you to,” Lewis says, his eyes still locked on the dark green ones. “Is he the reason that you decided to quit? You couldn’t save him so-“  
  
“Enough,” Nico growls darkly. “You have no right to go digging into my private life, Mr Hamilton –“ He pauses for a second. “It wasn’t my fault, I tried to save him, I, I-“ He stops once more before he turns on his heel, wiping the tears away from his face as he leaves Lewis’s dressing room. He leans against the closed door, feeling the tears ghost over his cheeks, he doesn’t close his eyes – he doesn’t want to see Michael’s haunted face covered in blood reaching out for him. He shakes the thoughts away and leaves the building.

* * *

  
  
“I’m sorry,” The familiar voice makes Nico pause. He’s found himself at the shooting range – he goes every Wednesday to ensure that his firearms technique never gets rusty. He lowers the gun and glances towards the dark-skinned man leaning against the wall – Lewis looks the same as always, dressed in his baggy t-shirt and ripped jeans, snapback jammed on his head.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Nico asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“I came to apologise, I shouldn’t have said anything about Michael and I’m sorry about that,” Lewis says, glancing at his trainers.  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything. He just nods once, his gun still in his hand. “How did you find me here?”  
  
Lewis scoffs under his breath. “It wasn’t difficult; somebody like you never switches off from the job… you never seem to rest, always want to be the best that you can be,”  
  
“You know if the rapping thing doesn’t work out, you’d be a brilliant psychoanalyst or a shrink, they’d pay you over the odds for your insight,” Nico mutters.  
  
Lewis rolls his eyes. “Maybe,”  
  
“Did you want anything else, Mr Hamilton?” Nico says, his fingers still clasping his gun.  
  
“No, I’m just here to watch the show,” Lewis smirks widely. Nico sighs heavily and moves back into position, tensing his body ready for the recoil of the gun. He lifts the weapon, his hands straight and steady as he stares down the sight of his pistol before he breathes in slowly, his finger pulls on the trigger. He exhales, glancing up at the target before him, the bullet penetrating the inner circle perfectly through the middle. He tries to ignore dark brown eyes ghosting over him.

* * *

  
  
“I think you should consider wearing a bulletproof vest,” Nico says, watching Lewis get fitted for a brand new suit for the Grammy’s ceremony – it’s a shiny shirt of grey material and personally, Nico finds it hideous but he keeps his mouth shut as he watches the tailor stick in pins all over the material, taking Lewis’s measurements.  
  
Lewis laughs out loud as his eyes ghost over Nico. “A bulletproof vest? I didn’t know I was back in the 1990s West Coast, East Coast business,”  
  
However, Nico doesn’t join in his laughter. He remains stoic.  
  
“You’re actually serious,” Lewis says, wincing as the tailor sticks another pin into his arm around his cuff area. “You actually want me to walk around in one of those things-“  
  
“Why not?” Nico asks, pulling open his own white shirt, revealing his own vest underneath his clothes. “I wear one all the time,”  
  
“You’re used to having bullets embedded in you,” Lewis says, trying not to glance over Nico’s arms, over the slither of skin hidden underneath the vest. “Look, I’m just a musician and you probably won’t believe me but I didn’t used to have a reputation for being a dickhead-“ He pauses for a moment. “You get known for being a certain way,”  
  
Nico snorts. Lewis levels him with a look. “Don’t you think so, Nico? Haven’t you guarded some high profile people?”  
  
“I have and I found that you can be whoever you choose to be,” Nico says, glancing at Lewis carefully. “It’s all about discipline,”  
  
Lewis pauses for a moment. “Is that why you never stay with any of your clients for more than a few years? Are you afraid of something?” Lewis looks at himself in the mirror as the tailor moves away, looks at the suit hanging off every curve of his body, shining in the gentle light. “Are you afraid that you might start to care about your clients a little too much?”  
  
“Possibly,” Nico answers the rapper with a bored tone.  
  
“Can’t you just give me a straight answer? I’m not such a bad person,” Lewis says, spinning around to face the blonde before him. “I know you don’t approve of me, of my lifestyle sometimes,”  
  
“Disapproval is a luxury I can’t afford to care about, Mr Hamilton,” Nico says crisply, his eyes still on Lewis, on the material that is slipping away from his shoulder, revealing a caramel coloured collarbone. “It gets in the way,”  
  
“Don’t like emotions getting to you, Nico? Don’t you ever mix business with pleasure?” Lewis says, the cloth doesn’t move, the skin still taunting.  
  
Nico looks away. “Never. That’s how people end up dead,” He says softly, images of Michael move in front of his eyes but he bats them away, tries to ignore the hurt. Brown eyes remain locked on green as the two men stare at each other for what seems like hours, before Lewis breaks eye contact and motions to another suit on the rack behind Nico.  
  
“Grab me that, would you?”  
  
Nico shakes his head. “I’m here to keep you alive, not to help you dress in your fancy clothes, Mr Hamilton,” He says, the smile ghosting across his face as Lewis stalks past him and grabs the suit himself, the caramel coloured skin still showing through the cloth.  
  
It’s worth it, Nico thinks afterwards.

* * *

  
  
“I thought you were joking,” Lewis says, folding his arms as he glances at the vest in Nico’s arms. “You have to be joking,”  
  
“Look, I spoke to Toto about this and he thinks it’s a good idea-“  
  
“Toto probably thinks that murdering someone is a good idea,” Lewis snaps, his eyes raking distastefully over the vest. “You’ve got another thing coming if you think that I am wearing that on stage-“  
  
“Mr Hamilton, it’s not a fashion statement, this could keep you alive, this might make you feel safe,” Nico argues, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.  
  
“I don’t need one to feel safe, Nico. I have you,” Lewis says.  
  
Nico blinks once, not thinking about the implications of Lewis’s words before he straightens up once more, holding out the vest. “Mr Hamilton, with all due respect, put the damn vest on,” He presses it into Lewis’s hands.  
  
Lewis glances at him with darkened eyes, a small smile curving over his lips as though to challenge. “Why don’t you make me?” Lewis moves closer, his breath curling over Nico’s cheek, his eyes burn into Nico’s. “Make me wear the vest, Nico,”  
  
Nico ignores the twinge in his pants at the way that his name curves around Lewis’s lips. Lewis moves closer still, his hand moving to fist into Nico’s t-shirt, their eyes locked together. “What are you truly afraid of? Afraid of letting go of that cold hard exterior?”  
  
“I could say the same for you, Mr Hamilton,” Nico says coldly.  
  
Lewis chuckles under his breath. “I don’t understand you, you pretend not to care but you insist on making me wear vests and putting all these measures in place to protect me-“  
  
“Because it’s my job-“ Nico begins just as Toto chooses that moment to enter Lewis’s room – his dark brown eyes moving between the two men.  
  
“What’s going on here?” He asks tentatively.  
  
“Nothing,” Lewis says breezily as he presses the vest back into Nico’s hands.

* * *

  
  
“I don’t think this is a good idea, who authorised this?” Nico says, glancing down at the pamphlet in his hand. “A secret gig?”  
  
Lewis smiles widely. “It’s for charity, Nico,”  
  
Nico worries his lip, glancing at Lewis. “As nice as it is to know that there’s a heart in there –“ He looks at the flyer once more. “I’m not sure this is a good idea,”  
  
“What would you define as a good idea?” Lewis says as they slide into the limousine, he’s dressed up to the nines in one of his shiny suits once more, his jewellery glittering in the lights.  
  
“A client who doesn’t make my job difficult? Who likes staying in with a cup of tea watching soaps on the television?” Nico offers, sliding in next to him.  
  
“Sounds awful,” Lewis says, smiling widely as he shakes his head. He settles into the leather seat of the limousine and grabs the bottle of champagne, popping it open and helping himself to a glass. Nico declines the offer of a glass with a small incline of his head.  
  
“Where are we going, Mr Hamilton?” He asks, glancing through the tinted windows.  
  
“Oh, just the Petronas,” Lewis says, waving a hand as though to dismiss the question. “It’s not a very big gig, hardly anyone knows about it-“  
  
Just as the words leave Lewis’s lips, the song on the radio stops and the DJ’s voice cuts in. “You’re listening to Ferrari Radio with me, Maurizio Arrivabene and that was Lewis Hamilton’s new song – Not Letting Me Through – I can tell that it is going to be a classic. And speaking of Lewis Hamilton, I’ve heard that he’s performing a secret gig at Petronas tonight-“  
  
Toto’s face turns white and he moves to turn up the radio. “That’s right, Lewis is performing a charity gig at the club tonight. But if you haven’t got a ticket, forget about getting down there, police are asking people to stay away,” The DJ pauses for a moment. “Stay cool, everyone, we’re going to try get you some interviews after the show, and remember, you heard it here on Ferrari – the station that delivers-“  
  
“It wasn’t me,” Toto mouths at a furious Nico.  
  
The limousine turns around the next corner and the bright teal lights of the Petronas come into view; a mob of fans seem to spill out of the doors and into the streets surrounding the club. Flashes begin to go off as the limousine draws nearer. Nico glances over at Lewis, only to find his face chalk white, his eyes wide as he glances over at the crowd, his hand moves out to grab onto Nico’s. Nico bites his lip as Lewis squeezes his hand tightly, his face still pale.  
  
“It’s okay,” Nico whispers to the singer as the fans seem to spot the limousine turning into the parking area, they move in a swarm towards it, seeming to surround it, engulf it under their madness. Faces of the fans appear at the tinted windows, seeming to leer at Lewis – they don’t seem human, their faces are contorted under the light. Lewis squeezes Nico’s hand tighter as they pull up outside the stage door – the flashes seem to intensify as Toto opens one of the doors, the faces scream out his name – like banshees, he thinks – surrounding the car.  
  
“Lewis! Lewis!” The calls echo into the night; as Lewis watches Nico’s other hand move to close over his gun. Lewis watches from the window as a man with a video camera is held back, another couple of men with bloodied noses are surrounded by security guards, their clothes shiny with red blood.  
  
“Mr Hamilton,” Nico’s voice cuts over the top of the crowd. “You have to let go of my hand,”  
  
Lewis nods once before his fingers drop away from the blonde’s. Nico nods back in approval as Lewis straightens out his suit and leaves the car. Nico watches him for a moment – watches the wide showbiz smile ghost over the dark-skinned man’s face as he moves through the crowd, Toto immediately at his side. Nico follows behind, his eyes on the crowd surrounding them.  A young man breaks one of the barriers and moves towards Lewis who is smiling and waving at the crowd.  
  
“Lewis, I love you!” The man declares, Nico sees the panic rise in Lewis’s eyes for a moment before he grabs hold of the young man. The man struggles against him, but Nico perseveres, grabbing hold of the man’s flailing limbs and pulling him out of the way of Lewis, guiding him over to the opposite cordon into the waiting arms of a security guard.

* * *

  
  
Lewis finally steps into his dressing room, casting a watchful eye over the contents – it’s beautiful, everything is in white, even down to the cushions on the white couch. Lewis sinks down into the chair in front of the large mirror.  
  
“Have you requested for the blue M &Ms to be taken out or something?” Nico says, glancing around, checking over everything, his hands moving over the couch.  
  
Lewis laughs lightly under his breath. “I put it in as a joke, I didn’t think that they’d take me seriously,”  
  
Nico holds out the bowl of M&Ms. “I think they took you very seriously,” He places the bowl down on the table next to Lewis, before he turns to leave the room.  
  
“Nico?” Lewis says quietly, Nico’s hand still on the handle.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Thank you for everything back there,” Lewis says.  
  
Nico smiles widely. “Just doing my job,”

* * *

  
  
Lewis sinks down into the chair and glances into the beautiful mirror before him – he spots a breathtaking bouquet of red roses placed on the side of the table. There’s an envelope marked with his name and he pulls it away from the flowers. He pulls the note out and the panic sinks inside his chest as the sheaf of generic white paper is revealed with a familiar typed message written on it.  
  
_Dear Lewis,_ _  
_ _You are everything I ever wanted but you never notice me. I don’t know what to do to get you to notice me? If I can’t have you, nobody will. I will enjoy killing you-_ _  
_ _  
_ Lewis’s eyes widen with shock as the letter falls from his hands. There’s a photograph attached to it – a photograph of him the previous night inside his hotel room, towel wrapped around his waist. Before he realises what he is doing, he’s calling out Nico’s name, the blonde immediately rushes through the door with his gun drawn, his wide green eyes take in the sight of the letter lying on the floor and his face turns chalk white.

* * *

  
  
“I swear I thought he’d talk to you…maybe later,” Toto says, taking a drag from his cigarette as he talks to the interviewer, still clutching a dictaphone in his hand, waiting for his exclusive.  
  
“He sent another letter,” Nico interrupts, pressing the note into the older man’s hands. “And another photograph,”  
  
“What do you mean another photograph?” Lewis says, appearing from behind the two men, arms folded, his eyes dark.  
  
Nico glances at the rapper. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”  
  
“Tell me what?” Lewis says, his eyes moving between Nico and Toto.  
  
“There were some other letters, Lewis, ones that came to the studio, they said things like they wanted to make music with you and I figured it was just your normal fans-“ Toto says, biting his lip.  “I didn’t want to worry you-“  
  
“You didn’t want to worry me? There’s photographs of me, Toto, he’s taking photographs of me without my consent, I don’t even know where he is-“ Lewis says, his eyes wide as he waves the photograph around.  
  
“Lewis, just calm down-“ Toto begins, flashing his wide smile. “He can’t get you here, you’re protected, you’re safe-“  
  
“We should get him out of here,” Nico says, turning to the dark haired man, his eyes alight with frustration.  
  
“But there’s no way he could be here-“ Toto begins.  
  
“Forget it,” Lewis says, huffing as he storms back into the dressing room. Toto follows him, his brown eyes worried as he watches Lewis sink into his chair.  
  
“What do you mean forget it? Forget the show? It’s for charity, Lewis-“

“I don’t believe this, he’s been following me this whole time, he might be out there right now,” Lewis says, pinching his temples. “He’s here isn’t he?”  
  
“We can protect you, Nico can protect you,” Toto argues, his eyes turning to the blonde.  
  
“I can’t protect him out there, Mr Wolff. He could be out there, waiting-“ Nico replies, his green eyes land on Lewis still staring at him.  
  
“We don’t know for sure,” Toto cuts in, listening to the people calling out Lewis’s name from the stage entrance. Lewis worries his lip and glances in the mirror at himself. “Look, we’ll just cancel the whole show then,” Toto says, his voice tinged with anger and frustration. He pushes past Nico and makes his way towards the stage. Lewis watches him go with a sigh.  
  
Nico leans on the doorway and watches the young man carefully. “I’m glad you looked at the bigger picture,” He says but Lewis doesn’t respond. He can hear the rhythmic clapping of the crowd, they’re all calling his name, they’re waiting for him. He looks at himself in the mirror – his name seems to crash over him, before he stands up without a sound and pulls on one of his favourite jackets.  
  
“What are you doing?” Nico asks, wide-eyed. “You don’t have to do this,”  
  
“I’m not going to let some freak chase me off my own stage,” Lewis says with a determined smile as he brushes past Nico and makes his way towards the stage.

* * *

  
  
Toto is on the stage, his hand curled around the lone microphone set up in the middle – the crowd are growing impatient, they barely hear Toto’s thin veiled attempts to draw their attention.  
  
“Excuse me, but I’ve got an announcement to make-“ He begins, his voice almost monotone.  
  
“Where is Lewis?” Somebody from the audience shouts out through the baying groans of the crowd. Toto worries his lip, gazing out over the throes of people before he clears his throat and continues, “Due to circumstances of safety beyond our control – I’m afraid that-“ However, as he pauses for a moment, a great gush of applause echoes through the audience and the frowns are replaced by wide smiles as Lewis glides into position next to Toto, grinning widely.  
  
“I thought you weren’t doing it,” Toto whispers to Lewis as he hands over the microphone.  
  
“Decided I wasn’t going to let some psycho ruin my day,” Lewis says back as he accepts the microphone, waving to the crowd cheering wildly. “That was Toto Wolff everyone, so I heard you were all here to get down for this wonderful cause, is that right?”  
  
The audience scream in approval.

* * *

  
  
Nico stands at the side of the stage, his eyes scanning over the room carefully, hovering on each person and committing their faces to memory. His gun feels like lead in his pocket, his fingers ghosting over the handle as his eyes move to watch Lewis moving along the stage, smiling widely as he spits verses into the microphone, not stopping for a beat. Nico takes in the sight of him in his tailored jacket and jeans, the silver chains around his neck gleaming gently in the light, the ring on his finger glinting as his hand curls around the microphone. Nico spots the tremble over his fingers, watches Lewis push away the anxiety.  
They share a look – gold-brown locking with green only for a moment, the curve of Lewis’s lips drifts upwards ever so slightly before he looks back to the audience.  
  
“Are we having a communications problem here?” Toto’s sharp voice cuts through the silence at the sight of the stage. Nico’s eyes slide from Lewis, from the smile curving along his lips as he picks up confidence stalking over the stage and prompting the audience to sing along with his song.  
  
“What?” Nico says, blinking once as he looks into the brown eyes. He steps slightly to one side for a better view of Lewis on the stage but Toto follows him, staring him down with cold eyes.  
  
“I didn’t make it clear to you how things go around here,” Toto says, simply.  
  
“You told me that you were going to tell him everything,” Nico says, trying to keep his temper under control.  
  
“I didn’t think that he could handle it,” Toto admits, there’s a tiny smirk dancing on his face as he glances over to where Lewis is still entertaining the crowd.  
  
“He handled it just fine,” Nico says sharply. He peers over Toto’s shoulder, his vigilance undiminished by the Austrian’s words, he watches the dark-skinned man slide over the stage, commanding the crowd with just a wave of his hand – they seem to love him, they seem to lap up his attention and he seems to shine under the lights.  
  
“Look, Nico,” Toto says, his hand closing over the blonde’s shoulder, forcing him to look up into the brown eyes. “I know what you’re saying and maybe I should have told Lewis everything, you, after all, know what’s best for him. You have a job to do and I understand that,” He pauses and smiles in an almost unnerving and predatory fashion.  
  
“But Lewis has a job to do too and that’s what he’s doing out there right now. He’s working, Nico. He’s the hottest thing on the music scene right now, if he doesn’t go out there, he’s dead. Forget about crazy death threats, if he doesn’t do his job, he’s dead…this thing could be good for a million pounds worth of free publicity, if handled properly of course-“ He’s cut off as Nico grabs him by the collar and slams the dark-haired man up against the wall next to the stage.

“One word,” Nico snarls, his green eyes dark with fury.  
  
“This could clinch him the Grammy,” Toto says but he’s cut off again as Nico’s thumb tucks itself into his windpipe, cutting off his circulation.  
  
“This could also cost him his life,” Nico spits as Toto smiles against the pressure.  
  
“You just don’t understand public relations and how to win over the public, Mr Rosberg,” Toto says quietly. But Nico doesn’t hear him, his attention is drawn back to Lewis by a renewed roar from the crowd as the music stops.

* * *

  
  
Lewis scans over the crowd, unable to keep the smile from gracing his face – this is the reason he got into music, to make people feel this way, to allow them to feel the same way about music, to unleash their emotions. He feels the lights fall upon him, his hands tighten around his microphone as he lifts his arm to acknowledge the crowd. Camera lightbulbs seem to explode before his eyes and he feels the smile curve wider over his lips.  
  
“This is a song you’ve been waiting for,” Lewis tells the crowd. “It’s called Still I Rise,”  
  
The screams seem to intensify. “You sure you want to hear it?” Lewis chides, smile on his lips. “I’m not sure if you are-“  
  
The audience seem to explode at Lewis’s words as the background music starts up. Lewis closes his eyes for a moment before he lifts the microphone to his lips.  
  
“You may write me down in history with your bitter, twisted lies-“ He begins as he moves to the other side of the stage, rapping out to the crowd who scream along the lyrics with him. They all seem to surge forward as Lewis crouches down before them, the words rolling over his tongue. Nico swears under his breath.  
  
“But still, like dust, I’ll rise-“ Lewis sings, smiling.  
  
A man tries to climb onto the stage, his arms outstretched, wanting to grab Lewis, to touch him – but Lewis shies away, still managing to sing as Nico reaches out and manages to knock the man gently down behind the barrier into the baying crowd with relative ease. But another man manages to dart up on the other side, curving around Lewis who sings with a smirk dancing over his face. Nico’s eyes widen and he moves in, ready to remove the man but he’s stopped by Lewis gesturing for him to hold back, waving him off. There’s a smile on his face – as though he knows exactly what he is doing – Nico’s frustration is almost intoxicating. Nico shrinks back into the shadows of the baying crowd, grinding his teeth with frustration. Lewis was so intent in keeping up his brand, his idea of music, that he was inviting strangers onto the stage – all the while, the audience is getting even more excited, pressing closer, their hands almost brushing over Lewis.  
  
Nico feels helpless, frustration sinking into his bones as he watches a forest of hands and faces seem to engulf Lewis – any of them could be a killer, any of them could be the person who sent the letters to Lewis. Nico’s green eyes dart over every face, his fingers tighten around his gun, frustration evident on his face as he watches the crowd surround Lewis – they seem to rush forward onto the stage, surrounding Lewis for what seems like an eternity – his smile wide as he continues to rap to the music as the fans dance alongside him, their hands reaching out to touch him. Nico breathes a sigh of relief as another security guard manages to grab hold of Lewis for a moment. However, he watches in horror as the guard is bumped and he loses his grip on Lewis, forcing him to tumble into the baying crowd of fans. The audience go wild as Lewis is passed over the heads of the fans, deeper into the audience.

* * *

  
  
“Lewis!”  
  
Nico surges forward, cutting his way through the crowd, slamming bodies out of the way in his haste to reach Lewis. His hand curls around his gun and he lifts it out and into the air – firing one single warning shot. There’s a handful of screams as the audience seem to stop for a moment, Nico still cutting through them, his gun held out in front of him. He finally reaches Lewis – fear has filled his face, his clothes are ripped and torn apart and there’s hurt in his haunting brown eyes. He falls forward into Nico’s chest and Nico manages to lift the rapper into his arms, trying to ignore how light he feels against his chest as he cuts his way through the crowd.  
  
The crowd seem to lose control once more at the sight of Lewis curled up against Nico’s chest but Nico continues to fight through the crowd, pushing past people trying to grab Lewis. Nico has to kick a rather young blonde boy who dares to stand in his way, trying to launch himself at Lewis.  Nico breathes a sigh of relief as he finally reaches the front door and immediately begins cutting a swath through the thickening crowd, he can hear the shouts of the audience members who are following him. The rain beats down against the pavements, Nico feels his hair flattening to his face. He looks down at Lewis, who glances at him with fear-filled brown eyes.  
  
“Get out of the way!” Nico barks at the crowd as he continues to cut through them, the rain still beating down, Lewis still limp in his arms.  
  
He spots the limousine a few feet away and breathes a sigh of relief. His muscles are starting to ache, he can feel the rain water trickle down his neck, underneath his bulletproof vest as he begins counting the steps to the safety of the car.


	3. Three

“Get us out of here!” Nico barks as he finally manages to get Lewis inside the limousine, sinking down into the heated leather seats with a sigh of relief.  The driver nods and immediately presses his foot down on the accelerator, the car moves out with a screech of tyres. It narrowly misses Toto as he finally staggers out of the building, the audience surrounding him like an angry mob.   
  
“Hey!” Toto calls out, yelling and waving to the limousine. “Rosberg! Rosberg! Get back here!” He screams out over the rain but the car is long gone, speeding out of the car park and down one of the side streets, leaving the dark-haired Austrian standing furiously in the rain.    
  


* * *

  
  
Nico finally places his gun back into his holster and turns to cast a watchful eye over Lewis – he’s slumped over in the middle of the seat, his eyes wide and his hands clasping at his jeans – they’re torn to pieces, his hands shake gently. Nico bites his lip and doesn’t say anything as he takes a moment to glance out of the window before his attention is brought back to the dark-skinned man still sitting on the seat. Lewis’s hands rise to his face and his body shakes with sobs as he sits alone in the tattered remains of his outfit. He looks strange – the chains are broken in pieces, the ring is missing and the jacket Lewis was wearing is ripped beyond repair. He looks broken as he surveys Nico with watery brown eyes.    
  
“I’m sorry,” He says quietly under his breath after a moment.    
  
Nico fights away the urge to scold Lewis, knowing that it would do more harm than good. “I’m sorry too,”   
  
“For what?” Lewis says, lifting his head.    
  
“For not doing my job properly,” Nico replies, trying not to lock eyes with Lewis.    
  
“It wasn’t your fault,” Lewis says softly.    
  
Nico nods once, there’s so many things he wants to say, but he holds them back. “Well, that was an interesting night, I’ve never carried my clients out of danger before,”    
  
There’s a moment of silence within the limousine as Nico glances out of the window once more, at the rain lashing down over the windowpane.   
  
“Nico?” Lewis says, his voice barely a whisper.    
  
Nico glances into hurt brown eyes. “Yes, Lewis?”   
  
“Thank you,” Lewis says after a moment.    
  


* * *

  
  
Nico watches Lewis play the piano in his apartment; he watches the long dark-skinned fingers skim over the keys like water – he watches Lewis’s eyes slide shut as the music echoes around the apartment. The rapper looks vulnerable, he’s dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, the chains are all gone, the jewellery is all gone and there’s nothing on his feet. Nico clears his throat, feeling the smile curve over his lips as he watches Lewis jump slightly, the music comes to an abrupt halt as he spins around, his eyes wide.   
  
“You wanted to see me?” Nico asks, worrying his lip.    
  
“I wanted to apologise,” Lewis says after a moment.    
  
“For what? The thing that happened at the gig, it’s over and done with-“ Nico cuts in, shaking his head.   
  
“No, I wanted to apologise for being a dick this whole time-“ Lewis says, looking up at the blonde.    
  
“I understand why you did it,” Nico says quietly.    
  
“What?” Lewis says, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”   
  
“I understand why you did what you did,” Nico says, still worrying his lip. “You were testing me,”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Lewis says after a moment of silence. “I just wanted to make sure you were going to do a good job,”   
  
“And did I?” Nico asks, the smile curving over his lips.    
  
Lewis nods once before he turns back to his piano and begins playing a familiar song – Nico recognises it as one of Adele’s, the fingers dance over the keys once more.    
  


* * *

  
  
“Who was Schumi?” Lewis asks – they’re settled on the private jet on their way back to London – Lewis is dressed in his hoodie once more, curled up on one of the seats, his brown eyes settled on Sebastian. There’s a guitar in his hands – he’s gently strumming out some rhythm as he watches the plane drift over a city far away- the lights twinkle up through the clouds.    
  
Nico feels his shoulders tense at the sound of the name – it’s been years since he last heard it. “What?” He says, hating the way his voice sticks in his throat.    
  
“Schumi, I was reading up on things on the internet,” Lewis says, not looking up from his guitar. “I heard that you were his bodyguard once,”   
  
“Things went wrong,” Nico says coldly. “I don’t like to talk about it,”   
  
“What happened to him?” Lewis asks softly, glancing up at the blonde.    
  
“He…he didn’t make it, I tried to protect him but-“   
  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask about him,” Lewis says, his fingers stilling on the strings. “I saw that he was shot whilst you were working for him, I’m sorry,”   
  
Nico purses his lips and doesn’t speak, the gentle plucking of guitar strings fills the cabin once more.  Lewis continues to strum his guitar and hums along with the melody.    
  
“It will never happen again, that’s why I can’t get close to anyone ever again,” Nico says, suddenly.     
  
Lewis glances up from his guitar. “Did you love him?” He says, his voice barely audible.    
  
Nico doesn’t answer, he doesn’t have to, the answer hovers in the thick air. Lewis continues to play his song, his eyes fall on his guitar but flicker up to Nico every so often throughout the flight. Nico doesn’t say anything else, not even when Lewis slumps against his seat fast asleep. He pulls away the guitar from Lewis’s slack fingers, ignores the flutter inside his chest at the sight of the dark-skinned man tucked away in his hoodie.    
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis slides onto the leather seats of his limo after a successful gig, the crowd still scream his name, they paw at him, at his chains, at his skin, camera flashes scattering through the screaming faces. He sinks down into seat as Nico hurriedly closes the door. Lewis immediately begins to loosen his tie as he glances through the tinted windows.    
  
“That was a long one,” Lewis says as he slumps back against the plush red leather and cracks open a beer, taking a long sip of the liquid. “Beer, Nico?”   
  
“I can’t drink on the job,” Nico says, looking out of the window. “You know that,”   
  
Lewis sighs heavily as he leans back, putting his feet up on the seats. “I want to loosen up, I want to do something else,”   
  
“Like what?” Nico asks as the limousine glides through the streets.    
  
“I want to meet new people, I haven’t been on a date for months, not since I hired you to follow me around,”   
  
“I’m not going to stop you from going on a date, Lewis,” Nico says, glancing carefully at the rapper’s brown eyes.    
  
“But like what if he invites me back to his place? Are you going to come too?”   
  
Nico feels his ears turn pink at Lewis’s words. “What are you talking about?”   
  
Lewis laughs. “What do you think I’m talking about, Nico? I’m talking about going on a date with a man and going back to his place, would you have to come with me and wait outside the door?”   
  
Nico bites his lip and looks at Lewis who has a wide smirk curving over his lips. “I suppose I’d have to wait somewhere to ensure you were safe,”   
  
“Well, I figured that would make you uncomfortable, so I thought that we could go out instead-” Lewis pauses for a moment to swipe his tongue over his lips. “What do you think? I mean, only if you wanted to,”   
  
“Like a date?” Nico says, feeling a smile ghost over his lips.    
  
“Something like that,” Lewis says, taking another sip of his drink. “Look, if you don’t want to, it doesn’t matter,”   
  
“Why not? You can pay though,” Nico says, smiling widely as he watches Lewis’s face turn bright red in embarrassment. He tries not to think about Schumi in that moment, tries not to think about the date they shared, about the wine they drank together before it all went wrong.    
  


* * *

  
  
“I don’t think it was very believable, I mean why would he go off with her?” Lewis says, as they leave the cinema. He glances at Nico through his tinted sunglasses, they’re designed to hide his identity but as always, they just draw attention to the rapper as it’s late in the evening and there’s no reason to be wearing protective eyewear.    
  
“Maybe he really did love her?” Nico says, feeling the smile ghost over his lips as they make their way towards the limousine parked at the side.    
  
“But he’s James Bond, Nico, it makes no sense! Why would he give up his life for some woman? Would you ever do that?”   
  
“Well, I don’t want to be an eighty year old bodyguard,” Nico says as he opens the door for Lewis. “Didn’t you sing the soundtrack for that film anyway? Didn’t you see it at the premiere?”   
  
“I was in America doing some press work,” Lewis says as he slides onto the seat. “Besides, I wasn’t really keen on the song, I wrote it when I was hungover one morning and sang it down the phone to him and the movie bosses loved it,”   
  
Nico feels the smile brush over his lips before he shuts the door. “Right, lets get you home,”   
  
“Home? Already? I don’t want to go home yet, it’s only eight in the evening,” He says, a pout making its way onto his face as he glances at Nico. “Can we go and get some food at least?”   
  
“Okay, but then we’re going home,” Nico says, but the smile that Lewis fixes him with makes him think otherwise.    
  


* * *

  
  
They end up in some little hole in the wall restaurant in the middle of Camden that according to Lewis - does the most amazing garlic bread that you will ever eat - tucked in one of the little booths somewhere. Lewis beams at the waiter as he brings over an enormous piece of garlic bread smothered in garlic butter and immediately begins tearing off a piece, popping it in his mouth and letting out a groan of approval.    
  
“You have to try this, it’s absolutely incredible,” Lewis says thickly through his mouth.    
  
Nico tears off a piece. It does taste good - the garlic explodes over his tongue, the bread is slightly chewy. Lewis’s dark eyes fall on him and wait for his approval, which Nico gives in the form of a thumbs up.   
  
“Do you think anybody could get by you in here and get to me?” Lewis says after a moment of silence as the two men continue to tear off chunks of the garlic bread.    
  
“If somebody is willing to trade his life for a kill, nothing can stop him,” Nico says solemnly.    
  
“Great,” Lewis says, chewing on his bread thoughtfully. “What do I need you for then?”   
  
“Well, he might get me instead, might kill me instead,” Nico replies, his eyes on the plate in front of them.    
  
“And you’re ready to die for me?” Lewis asks, his eyes fixed on the blonde.    
  
“That’s my job,” Nico says softly without hesitation.    
  
“You’d do it?” Lewis says in disbelief.    
  
“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing that I’d risk my life for yours, Lewis,” Nico says with a smile as he takes another piece of garlic bread and pops it into his mouth.    
  
“Saving a President may give you some honour, some sort of celebration, but dying for just anyone...isn’t that a little reckless?”   
  
Nico shrugs. “You mean like you? It’s a matter of conditioning and discipline,”   
  
“Discipline? How could you trust yourself not to screw up?” Lewis says, taking a sip of his drink.    
  
Nico doesn’t answer. Lewis places his glass of Coke down and looks at Nico. “Have you ever liked anybody? Like besides Schumi?”   
  
“I told you that I don’t talk about that,” Nico says coldly.    
  
“We’re not talking about that, we’re talking about  _ you _ ,”   
  
“Look, I told you already, I’m not somebody who likes to talk about themselves,” Nico sighs exasperated.    
  
“I just want to know more about you, you probably know all there is to know about me,” Lewis cuts in, smiling as their food arrives - lasagne for Nico, spaghetti bolognaise for Lewis. They immediately begin to eat, silence stretching out in front of them. The scratch of their cutlery against their china dishes is the only sound, both men’s eyes on their plates.    
  
“It was a long time ago,” Nico says after a while, breaking the silence. “When I loved somebody else besides  _ him, _ I mean,”   
  
“What happened to him?” Lewis asks, twirling the spaghetti around his fork. “He didn’t die, did he? He wasn’t your client, was he?”   
  
Nico laughs after a moment. “No, it wasn’t anything like that, she just didn’t love me anymore,” He takes a bite of his lasagne and chews it thoughtfully. “I guess she just didn’t find me interesting enough,”   
  
“I find that hard to believe,” Lewis says, laughing as their attention turns back to their food.    
  


* * *

  
  
Nico is guiding Lewis to the limousine after their meal, but before his hand can graze against the door handle, Lewis pulls him away with a wry smile curving across his lips. “I want to go and party,”   
  
“I need to take you home, Mr Hamilton,” Nico says, tugging the dark-skinned man back towards the limousine. 

  
“Nico, I’m not a five year old, I’m a fully grown man. I just want to let loose for a couple of hours,” Lewis says, tugging him away once more, a pout curving over his lips.    
  
Nico reluctantly allows himself to be dragged down the street by Lewis - his hand is warm against Nico’s own and Nico ignores the tingling sensation that dances over his skin at Lewis’s fingers curled around his own. They end up inside some club - Lewis only has to smile widely at the bouncer on the door who allows them straight through the entrance and into the smoky depths of the club - the bass music bouncing up off the walls, the strobe lights lighting up the dancefloor. Nico glances around and worries his lip.    
  
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Lewis,” He says over the din of the music.    
  
“Loosen up a little, Rosberg,” Lewis says, winking at the blonde as he moves over to the dancefloor, to where all the people are dancing against each other, the bass pulsing out as they rub against each other, their bodies connecting. Nico follows Lewis into the crowd, grabbing onto the man’s shoulder as he moves. Lewis turns slightly to face Nico with a small smile gracing his lips as he begins to sway his hips to the music.    
  
“We’re just dancing, Nico, nothing is going to go wrong here,” Lewis says, twisting his body against Nico’s to the beat.    
  
“You don’t know that for sure,” Nico says quietly as Lewis continues dancing.    
  
“Just relax,” Lewis says, closing his eyes and letting the music wash over him as he inches closer to Nico, grazing his hips against the blonde’s - he feels the gun in its holster resting against the inside of Nico’s thigh as he presses closer. Nico’s dark green eyes flicker up to meet Lewis’s dark brown ones - Lewis sees the trepidation within his eyes for a moment, he wonders if Nico is thinking about Schumi in that moment as he backs away a little.    
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to start thinking about-”Lewis says, chewing on his lip.    
  
“It’s okay, just don’t go off anywhere will you? Toto would have my head-”   
  
“Toto worries too much,” Lewis says, as he moves closer to Nico again, his hips swaying to the music. “He’s been my manager since I was like seventeen, he never babied me that much then, it was only when I got more famous,” Lewis says as they continue to dance. Their fingers brush up against each other as the music bounces over them - their bodies seem to tighten against each other as the crowd dance around them, green eyes stare into brown. The music changes to a remix of Lewis’s song and the dancefloor fills as the bass intensifies and Nico smiles as Lewis sighs heavily.    
  
“Not a fan of this song?” Nico says, glancing down at the rapper.    
  
“Not when I had to record it about sixty times in a recording booth,” Lewis cuts in just as there’s a shout of Lewis’s name. Nico twists his body, catching Lewis’s shoulder to move him away from the sound of the noise before he turns his head slightly to try and find the source of the shout.    
  
Lewis chuckles at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” He jokes with a wink. Nico smiles back, the warmth still spreading over his body at Lewis’s body against his.    
  


* * *

  
  
Nico watches from the doorway with a glass of whiskey in his hand as Lewis walks around his lounge, looking at the bookshelves, his fingers dance over the various titles. He continues to move over to where there’s a lone framed photo of a small blonde boy stood next to a kart, a blonde man and woman stood next to him beaming widely.    
  
“That was a long time ago,” Nico says, smiling as Lewis jumps a little, putting the photograph back on the shelves.    
  
“Why did you stop karting?” Lewis asks, softly.    
  
“It was nothing more than a boyhood dream,” Nico replies.    
  
“Toto told me that you were in the Secret Service, what made you get out?” Lewis says, glancing over the lounge area, the windows showcasing the view of London before them.    
  
“Money,” Nico says shortly. 

“Didn’t guarding Presidents pay enough money?” Lewis says with a smile as he moves over to where there’s a beautiful black piano standing next to the windows. He stops for a moment, his eyes roving over the instrument.    
  
“I see your tastes are extravagant,” Lewis says as he glances between Nico and the grand piano. “May I?” He asks.    
  
Nico nods once and Lewis lifts the lid on the piano, exposing the black and white keys before him. He tests the waters - carefully pressing a few of the keys into some arrangement before he glances back up at Nico who hasn’t moved, still stationary, a smirk on his lips before he presses the glass to his lips. Lewis doesn’t sit down, he stays standing as he begins playing a song that is close to his heart, that he can play without looking at the keys. His dark fingers ghost over the keys as he plays out a haunting melody that echoes through the silence of the piano.    
  
Lewis closes his keys and begins to sing softly, interlinking with the piano. “I keep on falling in and out of love with you-”  
  
He loses himself within the music, his fingers dancing over the piano keys as the music fills the air, his voice twining with it to drown out the silence in Nico’s apartment. He doesn’t think about himself, he doesn’t think about Nico or anyone else in that moment as he continues to play the piano before him, never missing a key as he sings along to the melody, the notes ghosting over his skin. However, just as he’s about to finish, a warm hand clasps his shoulder. His fingers still on the keys as his eyes flicker up to meet Nico who is standing behind him with a strange expression in his eyes.    
  
“Sorry, I guess I got sidetracked,” Lewis says, feeling the blush spread over his cheeks.   
  
“I guess you did,” Nico says softly, his tongue darts out to ghost over his dry lips.    
  
Lewis surges forward and presses his lips against Nico who immediately responds - their lips mesh together as Nico backs Lewis against the piano, ignoring the clatter of the keys as the rapper’s arse hits some of the keys. Lewis’s hands grasp at Nico’s shirt, their lips rub hungrily over one another. Nico whines against Lewis’s lips, pressing him against the piano as his hands move to pull at the rapper’s shirt. Nico draws back from Lewis’s lips, slightly panting, his lips red and swollen to pull away his shirt. He looks at Lewis with tenderness as he removes his bulletproof vest, the kevlar sinking down to the wooden floor. Lewis’s eyes rove over the pale white skin, over the few scars that litter over Nico’s chest, focusing on one just over his heart. He brushes over it with cool fingers, making Nico hiss.    
  
“What happened?” Lewis asks, softly, holding Nico’s gaze.    
  
“Stray bullet when I was in the Secret Service,” Nico replies before he moves in for another kiss.    
  
Their lips twist together, Lewis’s fingers dancing over Nico’s bare torso as Nico carefully unbuttons the rapper’s shirt, his tongue brushing over Lewis’s lips. Lewis opens his mouth, Nico’s tongue pours into it, tasting the older man. Lewis moans against Nico’s lips as his shirt falls down to pool against the side of the piano. Their bodies press against each other, Lewis glances at Nico as he feels the gun brush against his thigh, Nico’s lips move to press tiny kisses across Lewis’s jawline, over the edge of his chin. Lewis moves his head back, baring his neck to the blonde man before him, Nico’s lips dancing over his skin - their eyes lock for a moment. Nico continues to mouth at Lewis’s neck, eliciting moans from the rapper. Lewis’s fingers dance over Nico’s skin, mapping out every inch. Nico pulls away for a moment, staring into Lewis’s eyes - brown locked with green - before he carefully unstraps his holster in a fluid motion, allowing it to fall to the floor. He stands before Lewis, breathing heavily as he looks into the dark brown eyes, in nothing but his trousers.    
  
“You’re beautiful,” Lewis whispers.    
  
Nico doesn’t say anything as he moves in once more, his body hard and sweaty against Lewis’s. He lays one hand on Lewis’s belt buckle as though asking for permission. Lewis nods once and Nico carefully undoes the belt. Lewis gasps as he feels the cool air hit his legs as his trousers pool around his ankles.  Nico’s eyes never leave him as he moves to undo his own trousers. They barely hit the floor when Nico’s lips connect with Lewis’s once more.    
  
They make love against the piano, Nico feels Lewis’s name tumble from his lips over and over as he watches the dark-skinned man’s lips part.    



	4. Four

Lewis lies naked under Nico’s sheets; the white is a stark contrast against his dark skin. Nico had taken Lewis to his bedroom where they had made love a second time against his sheets - they both lay naked underneath them, Lewis is tracing circles into Nico’s pale bicep curled around his midsection, almost protectively.    
  
“I never felt so safe before,” Lewis says, his voice barely a whisper.    
  
Nico smiles as he glances down at the rapper. “Nobody can get by you,” Lewis says, his fingers still tracing.    
  
“Right now, it might not be so hard,” Nico admits as Lewis smiles once more, turning slightly in his arms to press a gentle lingering kiss against his lips. He pulls away, turning again and moving closer into the crook of Nico’s arms, the circles drawn on Nico’s skin slow before they stop completely, Lewis’s fingers slack against the pale skin. Nico glances down at the man asleep in his arms, slack against his body for what seems like a lifetime before he finds himself slowly drifting into sleep. His arms do not slacken around Lewis, even in sleep.    
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis is awoken by the sound of the blinds snapping up, casting bright sunlight into the room. He sits up in bed, brushing away the sleep from his eyes and pushing his hand through his mussed hair. He catches sight of Nico moving around the bedroom, hurriedly pulling on one of the white shirts he wears for work every day, he doesn’t stop to acknowledge Lewis once.    
  
“Nico?” Lewis says, his face full of confusion. But the blonde continues buttoning his shirt, smoothing out the invisible creases within it.    
  
“What’s wrong? What are you doing?” Lewis asks again, pulling the sheets around his naked form. Nico carries on moving around, trying to find his cufflinks in one of the drawers.    
  
“Nico?” Lewis tries again, tentatively.    
  
“Lewis, I don’t want you to get confused about what I’m doing here,” Nico says in a tight voice as he pulls his cufflinks out of the drawer and clips them on, avoiding Lewis’s eyes.    
  
“Confused about what? You’re not making any sense,” Lewis says.    
  
“You pay me to protect you, that’s what I have to do,” Nico continues as he shuffles around the room, pulling on a pair of trousers.    
  
“Have I done something wrong?” Lewis asks, confused.    
  
“No, nothing,” Nico replies shortly.    
  
“What’s going on, Nico?” Lewis says, pulling the sheets around himself as he moves off the bed towards the blonde.    
  
“I have to keep my head in the right place, Lewis. If my head isn’t in the right place, well-” Nico says, brushing past the rapper and opening up the wardrobe.    
  
Lewis watches him pick out a black jacket. “I need to know what job I’m doing, Lewis,”   
  
“And what is that job, Nico? Making me feel like crap?” Lewis says, tightening the sheets around himself as he stares at the blonde.    
  
“I’m sorry-” Nico begins.    
  
“Don’t apologise,” Lewis says, feeling the anger tighten in his chest. “Just tell me what I did,”   
  
“You didn’t do anything,” Nico says quietly as he smoothes out his jacket. “It’s my fault, I should have never got involved with you, you’re my client,”   
  
“Your client?” Lewis says, his eyes narrowed in anger. “Is that all I am to you now?”   
  
Nico sighs exasperatedly. “It’s my fault, I made a mistake,”   
  
“What mistake? You got in my pants and now suddenly you don’t like me?” Lewis says, moving closer once more. “You can’t even look at me and tell me you hate me-”   
  
Nico spins around on his heel, his eyes radiating fury. “Christ, Lewis! I told you before, I can’t protect you like this, I can’t get too personal,”   
  
“I don’t believe you,” Lewis hisses, his face inches from Nico’s, his hand moves as though to slap Nico’s face but the blondes catches it before the blow hits. Green eyes stare into brown.    
  
“It’s all to protect you, Lewis. You can live with that or you can fire me,” He says moving away to slide his gun into his holster.    
  
Lewis doesn’t say anything else. He gathers up his clothes with tears burning at his eyes.   
  


* * *

  
  
“Rosberg! Get in here!” Toto’s sharp voice calls out. Nico enters the room to find the dark haired man sitting at his desk, cigarette between his lips, his phone is ringing off the hook. There’s a portrait of Lewis on one of the walls.    
  
“Put together a list of your expenses, let me have it in one hour and I’ll see that you’re paid off for your services,” He says shortly, barking across his desk.    
  
“Don’t you ever say what’s on your mind?” Nico replies in a bored voice.    
  
“What’s on my mind is that you’re fired, Rosberg,” Toto says evenly. “Lewis missed all his interviews yesterday and the day before that, all because of your little date. He stood up Bernie Ecclestone of all people-” Toto spits. “You fuck up his career, now you’re fucking up his head-”  
  
Nico doesn’t say anything for a moment before he glances back at the dark haired man. “That’s between us,”   
  
“Get your shit together, Rosberg, you have until noon,” Toto says, crushing the cigarette into the ashtray by the side of him.    
  
“He stays,” Lewis’s voice cuts through the smoke. Nico spins around to see the dark-haired man hovering in the doorway, his arms folded, his eyes dark. He’s wearing a soft looking grey jumper and a pair of jeans, there’s no chains, no flash jewellery, he looks vulnerable. “He stays or you can forget me performing in Miami,”   
  
“You signed the contract, Lewis. Do you want me to read it to you?” Toto says, his eyes dark with anger.    
  
“Fuck the contract,” Lewis bites back. “If he goes, I’m not singing a note,”    
  
“Fine, you’re staying for now, Rosberg,” Toto says shortly. “You’re dismissed,”   
  
Nico turns around to talk to Lewis, only to find that the rapper has vanished. He sighs heavily and walks out of the office with slack shoulders.   
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis seems to grow colder in the next few days towards Nico - Nico pretends not to notice that the rapper barely smiles at him, he scribbles away into an old notebook and hums melodies to himself. However, the Grammys are looming nearer and nearer - they’re in Miami for the last show before they fly back to London for a few days to do some more press work.    
  
Nico watches as Lewis’s face is covered in make up, ready for his photoshoot by the pool. His eyes are closed, his hands splayed out on the arms of the chair as the make up is applied to his skin. A make up artist sweeps some sparkly powder over his cheeks.    
  
“It’s showtime!” Toto says, clapping his hands as he enters the room, smiling. Lewis glances up at him from the chair, opening one eye. He doesn’t say anything as he’s helped into his clothes - a suit with a tan coloured turtleneck underneath. Nico follows him out of the lift to the pool area here the photographer has cleared an area ready to shoot. However, there are other guests still using the pool who immediately recognise Lewis. The photographer shakes his head before directing him over to the area - Lewis has just got into position when Nico hears the flashes of the camera phones, the low chatter of the guests around the pool.    
  
“Lewis! Lewis!” They begin shouting as Lewis continues to ignore the attention he’s receiving, perching against the pool, staring straight into the camera with frightening intensity. People begin to push and shove to get closer to the man, glasses are smashed in the frenzy, a ripple of excited chatter washes over the pool area.    
  
“Lewis, we have to go, there’s too many people here,” Toto hisses as loud as he can before he turns to the photographer. “Finish up here,”   
  
However, Lewis continues posing for the photographer. “I’m not going anywhere until we get the shots we need,” He says coldly, sparing a glance for Nico before the photographer barks another order at him and he turns his attention back to the camera.    
  
“Is this really necessary, Lewis?” Nico calls out, he’s standing near the throes of people, his fingers hovering closer and closer to his gun, ready to protect Lewis at any cost. He allows his eyes to dance over the crowd, wondering if the man is amongst them, wondering if his eyes are upon Lewis.    
  
“Stop bitching, Rosberg,” Lewis says, breaking character for a second. “This is what you get paid for, isn’t it?” He finishes before he turns back to the photographer. Nico’s eyes fall back onto the crowd.    
  


* * *

  
  
“We’re done, I’ve got the shots that you needed,” The photographer says eventually. He lowers his camera and moves over to where Lewis is still standing. “I’ll edit the photos and they should be with you within a few days,”   
  
Lewis pastes on his best award-winning smile. “You’re very good at your job,”   
  
The photographer blushes. “You make my job easy,”   
  
Lewis cocks his head ever so slightly, the smile still clinging to his face. “Thank you, you should come to my party tonight, as thanks,”   
  
“But I-” The photographer begins.    
  
“Consider it my thanks for taking such amazing photographs of me,” Lewis says smoothly. He and Nico share a glance; for a moment, brown locks on green and the smirk over Lewis’s lips widens before he turns on his heel, walking towards the throng of people taking photographs and videos of him. He pastes on a smile as he introduces himself to the fans, feeling Nico immediately guide himself to his side.    
  


* * *

  
  
The party is in full swing - there’s people dancing around the pool area with glasses in hand, it’s crowded, smoky and noisy, the bass pumping out of the massive speakers. The French doors are open and people are milling about inside and outside of the house that Lewis has rented out for his few days stay. Women move around in sparkly party dresses, men in sharp tuxedos. Lewis exits his bedroom wearing a sparkly, shimmering suit, a red bowtie tied elegantly around his neck. The photographer he had met earlier follows him out of the room, his lips swollen and his hair mussed. Lewis gives the man a small smile before he sinks away into the crowd, snagging a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. Nico is standing in a corner, hidden by the mass of moving bodies, his green eyes lock on Lewis moving through the crowd. His eyes continuously scan for any form of danger, constantly watching and waiting.    
  
“You haven’t changed a bit, Rosberg, still on the job now?” A familiar voice pipes up behind him. Nico takes his eyes away from the crowd for a moment to settle on the taller blonde behind him. Jenson is an old colleague; they’re old friends back when they both used to guard Ecclestone together. Nico smiles weakly and accepts the handshake that Jenson offers him.    
  
“Buy you a drink?” Jenson says with a wide smile.    
  
“Orange juice,” Nico says flatly. “You on a job?”   
  
“Technically, I’m off duty but the Governor might show up here later, so I thought I’d scope the place out before he arrives,” Jenson says, lightly.  “You working tonight?”   
  
Nico nods, his eyes falling on Lewis who parts the crowd with a wide smile as he moves through the throngs of people, his suit shining in the bright lights.    
  
“Lewis Hamilton?” Jenson says with a whistle. “I’m impressed, I’d call him a step up from Bernie, probably sings better too,”   
  
They both watch the man dance through the crowd, smiling at other people and thanking them for coming.    
  
“He looks a handful,” Jenson teases playfully.    
  
“You don’t know the half of it,” Nico says with exasperation.    
  
Jenson chuckles a little under his breath. “I heard you had to take time off after the Schumacher affair?”   
  
Nico doesn’t say a word, he just nods his head slightly, feeling the lump in his throat.    
  
“It wasn’t your fault, Rosberg,” Jenson says, softly.    
  
“Yeah, I guess,” Nico says to himself. He glances up to scan the crowd, Lewis seems to have disappeared, the shiny suit no longer on the dancefloor.    
  
“Who are you?” Lewis’s voice pipes up over the bass - he stands before the pair of blonde bodyguards, his brown eyes taking in the sight of Jenson before him.   
  
“Jenson Button,” Jenson says with a wide smile as he holds his hand out for Lewis to take. Nico’s eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of the blonde bodyguard’s fingers dancing over Lewis’s hand. “Pleased to meet you,”   
  
“The pleasure is all mine,” Lewis says, smiling, Jenson’s fingers still brushing over his skin. “I take you that you’ve met my bodyguard?”   
  
“We used to work together,” Jenson replies.    
  
Lewis smiles widely. “Oh, so you know all about Nico here as a young bodyguard right? Are you working right now?”   
  
Jenson shakes his head. “Not right now,”   
  
“Good,” Lewis says, sliding his arm through Jenson’s. “Because I’m the only person in this room who needs protection,” He smiles at Nico fondly as he leads Jenson away in the throng of people still dancing to the beat of the music. Nico watches them leave with narrowed eyes. He watches Lewis lean into Jenson, whispering to the blonde with a curve over his lips. He tears his eyes away from the pair for a moment, Lewis gives him a glance for a moment, his look is defiant and testing. But Nico doesn’t see it, his eyes are on the crowd.   
  


* * *

  
  
A scream erupts from the balcony later that evening. Nico immediately fights his way through the dancing crowd to the source of the commotion. A man is spraying champagne, all over the residents of the balcony. Nico spots Lewis pressed up against the railings, looking uncomfortable - Jenson is next to him. However, as the man continues to spray the champagne over them, Lewis seems to stand up onto the railings, balancing precariously.  Nico watches in horror as one of Lewis’s feet slips, almost pitching him over the railings. However, Jenson’s training kicks in and he seizes hold of Lewis’s wrist, pulling him back from the edge.    
  
“What happened?” Nico says, finally pushing his way through the crowd.    
  
“I just tripped,” Lewis says, giggling to himself, his eyes are wide and glassy. “Thank god I had a bodyguard here, huh?”   
  
Jenson smiles back, glancing down at Lewis’s shirt stained with champagne.    
  
Lewis follows his gaze. “I guess I better change, huh?” He grabs hold of Jenson’s arm and leads him away, back through the crowds of people. Nico watches the pair disappear upstairs to Lewis’s bedroom, he feels a sting in his chest at Lewis laughing and smiling at Jenson, the blonde’s hand clasped around his waist. Lewis spares him a glance from the top of the stairs as he tugs Jenson towards his room. Nico disappears back to the bar for a drink.    
  


* * *

  
  
Jenson presses Lewis onto the sheets of his bed, pressing gentle kisses along his collarbone and over his jawline, Lewis feels his head fall back against the pillow, his neck bared to Jenson’s lips.     
  
“You’re beautiful,” Jenson whispers, his hands creeping over Lewis’s shirt, beginning to gently push it up, exposing Lewis’s dark skin.    
  
Lewis’s eyes open as Jenson’s fingers slide underneath the waistband of his trousers and he sits up, pushing Jenson away from him. “I’m not doing this,”   
  
“I think you are,” Jenson says, smoothly, smiling widely at Lewis.    
  
“I don’t think so, Mr Button,” Lewis replies as he slips off the side of the bed and tucks his shirt back into his trousers, his hand smoothing over his hair. “Goodnight,”    
  
Jenson watches him walk out of the bedroom and smooths down the creases in his suit before he follows the dark-skinned man who is sweeping down the stairs. He watches Lewis collect a glass of champagne and down it in one. He spots Nico hanging around the edge of the party and their eyes connect for a moment - as they watch Lewis grab another glass and down the contents in one swoop. The rapper then proceeds to take to the dancefloor - pushing his body up against other people, a wide smile painting his face. Nico takes a sip of his orange juice, his eyes still locked on his charge, making his way across the dancefloor. The next song is one of Lewis’s and the crowd seem to erupt, enveloping Lewis. Nico’s eyes widen as he watches Jenson run through the crowd to get to the clearly intoxicated man.    
  
“Lewis!” Nico calls out, fighting his way through, only to find Lewis at the other end of the room - his arm is over Jenson’s shoulder and he’s giggling into the blonde’s chest.    
  
“Lewis, what are you doing?” Nico says, glancing between him and the other blonde bodyguard.    
  
“I’m having fun, Nico, what does it look like?” Lewis slurs, his eyes are glassy.    
  
“Lewis, you don’t have to do this,” Nico says softly.    
  
“Do what? You think I don’t have a choice in the matter?” Lewis replies, his eyes dark and challenging. “You won’t fuck me anymore, so I had to find someone who would, Jenson gladly rose to the challenge,”   
  
“You’re not thinking clearly,” Nico hisses under his breath.    
  
“I’m thinking about what I really want, Nico, you should try it sometime,” Lewis says, he moves to walk away from Nico but the blonde catches his wrist.    
  
“Think about this, Lewis, you don’t want to fuck some guy you don’t even know,”   
  
“Stop telling me what to do, I’m sick of everyone telling me what to do,” Lewis says, pushing Jenson away as he stalks away from Nico. “I’m sick of you, I’m sick of your lies - you pretend to care about me but then you tell me not to get too close, I don’t understand you-” He slurs as he takes another champagne glass, downing the fizzy liquid as he continues cutting through the crowd.    
  
“Lewis, where are you going?” Nico calls out.    
  
“Away from you,” Lewis says, pushing past people and disappearing into the crowd. Nico tries to fight through the crowd, tries to push past the nameless faces but as his eyes slide around the crowd, he loses sight of Lewis. He curses under his breath as he finally reaches the other side of the room, scanning the crowd for the shiny suit. He doesn’t hear the roar of an engine start outside, Lewis, clearly intoxicated, his hands wrapped around the steering wheel of his Pagani Zonda.    
  


* * *

  
Lewis feels the tears brush over his cheeks as he pulls the car out of neutral and allows it to sail down the drive of the house he’s renting. He tries to ignore the thoughts running through his head - they seem to blur together. He feels numb and unfeeling, the alcohol buzzes inside his veins. He turns up the radio and rests both hands on the steering wheels as he pulls the car through the streets of Miami. The streetlights seem to blur before his eyes and he blinks a few times to stop his vision from blurring completely. He tries not to think about Jenson’s lips on his own, the burn of a lovebite over his dark skin, he remembers with frightening clarity as Jenson pressed him into the sheets, his eyes dark with hunger. Jenson’s visages melts away into Nico’s and Lewis’s hands tighten around the steering wheel, fresh tears fall down his cheeks, as he remembers the night they shared, Nico’s pale skin above him, his green eyes burning into Lewis’s as he pressed against him, trusting - Lewis remembers the warmth curling up his thighs as he glanced up at Nico, as Nico’s fingers danced over his skin, his lips pressing over, marking everything -    
  
Lewis’s phone rings, interrupting the silence. Lewis glances down at it, expecting to see Toto’s number but instead there’s a jumble of blurred numbers he doesn’t recognise. He answers the call, one hand still on the wheel.    
  
“Hello?” He says, still slurring his words.    
  
“Lewis Hamilton,” The voice is sharp and low. “Didn’t you know it’s illegal to drive a car whilst you’re intoxicated?”   
  
“Who are you?” Lewis says into the phone.    
  
The man laughs. “Who do you think it is, Mr Hamilton? You stopped opening my letters - I went to your place in London and they were building up in your mailbox, so I had to see what was holding your attention-”    
  
Lewis doesn’t say anything. The man continues speaking, “I was at the party tonight, I was there when you decided to fuck that blonde bodyguard of yours,” There’s a pause. “I must admit, I was rather disappointed in you, Lewis, I thought you have better taste than some guy who let the man he was protecting be killed-”   
  
“You’re wrong!” Lewis says, shaking his head. “That’s not true!”   
  
“Is that what he told you?” The man laughs. “That’s what he wants you to think, Lewis. Nico Rosberg is nothing more than a murderer, it was his fault that Michael Schumacher died, he pretended that he was protecting him, he was the one who killed him,”   
  
“You’re lying, Nico would never-” Lewis begins.    
  
“Right, if he’s such a good bodyguard, why did I manage to get inside your house, inside your bed?” The man says smoothly. “You don’t know where I am right now, I’m coming for you, Hamilton. When I find you, you’ll belong to me, the way things were supposed to be, you can’t run forever-”   
  
Lewis is paralysed by fear, his hand shaking as he clings to the steering wheel. “Why are you doing this?”   
  
“Because I can,” The man says after a moment. “You keep running for now, but I’ll find you, your car isn’t that difficult to spot - it’s a bright purple Pagani Zonda 760LH with the registration 1411, shouldn’t be too hard to find should it?” He laughs again. “And when I do, I’ll kill you-”   
  
The dial tone suddenly rings through Lewis’s ear before he feels the dizziness wash over him, his hand falls away from the steering wheel and the car swerves dangerously in the middle of the road. The dizziness only intensifies as the phone drops from Lewis’s fingers as he fights to right the car’s swerving path but it’s too late. He hears the sound of crunching metal before his vision fades to black, the front end of the beautiful purple car is destroyed, smoke gently curving into the night air. Lewis lays slumped in the front seat, motionless. His phone rings out for a moment before it cuts off, Lewis doesn’t stir. 


	5. Five

Nico is packing his suitcase, his features awash with frustration as he throws his washbag in on the top of the pile of clothes. There’s a hurried knock at his hotel room door and without warning, Toto barrels through the door, looking panicked.    
  
“Lewis is at the hospital, he crashed his car an hour ago,” He says, his wide eyes falling from Nico to take in the sight of his open suitcase. “Going somewhere?”   
  
“I’m through, Toto. I’m leaving, I’ve already called in my replacement, he’s called Kimi Raikkonen-”   
  
“He got a call, Rosberg, it was the same guy, the guy who had been sending him the letters, he crashed his car into some bridge, he’s really shaken up,”   
  
Nico sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t care, I’m not going to try and save somebody who doesn’t want to be saved, he doesn’t want my protection,”   
  
“He needs you, Rosberg,” Toto says, softly. “Without you, he’s gonna get himself killed,”   
  
“He doesn’t listen to me, he defies my every order, every step I take to protect him. There’s nothing more I can do,” Nico says, brushing past Toto to grab his guns.    
  
“Please, Rosberg,” Toto says. “He needs you, he said as much, you really going to leave him in the lurch?”   
  
Nico’s hands still on the top of the suitcase. He sighs heavily as he feels the fight fall out of him.   
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis is standing outside the hospital doors wearing the shiny suit that he was wearing the night before - it’s torn in places and there’s a smear of blood on the collar, he’s smoking a cigarette and glancing up at the lightening sky.    
  
“Come to lecture me?” Lewis says, he sounds tired, defeated.   
  
Nico doesn’t say anything, he just glances at Lewis carefully, his gaze hovers on the blood. Lewis follows his gaze, the smoke curving around his face. “I only had a few cuts and bruises...I was more worried about my car-” He laughs but Nico’s face remains stoic. “Aren’t you going to yell at me?”   
  
“I figured that Toto has already done that,” Nico says shortly. “When would you listen to me anyway?”   
  
“Listen, nothing that happened between us matters to me anymore, he called me when I was driving - it wasn’t what he said, he was how he said it with such conviction-” Lewis pauses for a moment, his voice cracking as his shaking hand moves the cigarette to his lips. “I need you,” He says, finally. “And I hate myself for thinking that, thinking that I need another person - but I’m afraid and I hate that feeling-” He stops, brushing away a tear that is curving down his cheekbone.    
  
“I can’t protect you like this,” Nico says, quietly. “The odds are on his side,”   
  
“I’ll do whatever you say,” Lewis says, his brown eyes locking on Nico.    
  
Nico nods as he gazes out at the brightening sky, at the sun rising over the skyscrapers. “You can stay at my apartment,”   
  
“You have an apartment here in Miami?” Lewis asks with wide eyes.    
  
“Protecting the President has its perks,” Nico says, grinning.    
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis glances around Nico’s apartment with a trained eye - it’s different than his other apartment - this one is slightly more modest despite it’s location in one of the more upmarket areas of Miami. The French doors open up to give a beautiful view of the beach, the features are minimalistic. Lewis walks around, glancing over the artwork hanging on the white walls.    
  
“That’s my Picasso work, received it as a gift from Obama a few years ago for uncovering an assassination plot against him and his wife,” Nico says softly. Lewis spins around to find Nico standing behind him - he’s wearing a loose  t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants - he looks vulnerable, something that Lewis has never seen before.    
  
“What if he finds us here?” Lewis asks softly. “I mean, he knew all about you, about the registration of my car,”   
  
“Relax,” Nico says quietly. “My apartment has a safe room, there’s 24 hour security with closed circuit cameras everywhere, I also have a phone line that connects to the police, the windows are bulletproof,”   
  
Lewis nods, glancing over the horizon. “You sure know how to keep a guy safe,”   
  
“That’s kinda my job,” Nico says, laughing.    
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis is glancing over the photographs of Nico, there’s more at this apartment, scattered over the surfaces - there’s one of a young blonde boy with the same two people - obviously his parents, there’s a photograph of Nico standing next to President Obama, they both are smiling at the camera, there’s one of Nico stood next to Bernie Ecclestone meeting some female politician - Lewis spots a familiar face next to them, next to Nico’s stoic face - he’s in a pose that Lewis knows well, vigilant, constantly combing the crowd. But Jenson looks relaxed, grinning widely at the politician in the photograph.    
  
“Jenson sometimes had trouble remembering what his job was,” Nico says, jolting Lewis out of his thoughts. “Sorry, supper is ready,”   
  
Lewis moves over to the table where Nico sets out their supper - barbeque chicken with a plate of sweet potato chips, the smell of the freshly prepared food tickles Lewis’s nostrils as he sinks into the chair. “It smells great, let me guess did President Obama give you a special cookery lesson?”   
  
“No,” Nico says, smiling. “My mom taught me how to cook,”   
  
“You don’t talk much of your parents,” Lewis says quietly as he snags a leg of the barbeque chicken.    
  
“There’s not much to tell,” Nico says bluntly. “I had a pretty normal life, I grew up in Monaco, I karted a little,”   
  
“What? Then you grew up, woke up one day and decided you wanted to be a bodyguard?” Lewis asks, his mouth full of chicken.    
  
“I was in the army, served some time in Afghanistan, I decided it wasn’t for me,” Nico says softly. “I still wanted to protect me though, but I wanted to do it under my terms. I’d lived through watching too many innocent people die, I decided to use my training to protect people, they offered me a job watching governors at first, I worked my way up the ladder to guard the big man,”   
  
“Why did you quit?”   
  
“Bernie was corrupt as the people I was protecting him from,” Nico says with a wry smile. “After that, I decided to take a step down, protect people who were worthy. I met Schumi, he was a good guy, he was a famous racing driver, needed my protection from his legions of fans,”   
  
Lewis eats quietly as Nico continues, “I thought he was safe that day, I told him not to wear his vest, we were in Mexico of all places and the mob seemed to come from nowhere,” He pauses for a moment. “Before I knew it, he was surrounded and they wanted a piece of him, then it happened - it was almost in slow motion, somebody pulled a gun, I went to move in front of him but-”   
  
There’s a hard knock at the door, cutting Nico off. Confusion flood his features as he stands up, pulling the gun out of his holster. He approaches the door carefully, his fingers carefully hovering over the trigger as he peers into the spyhole. Toto Wolff stands in the doorway.    
  
“It’s your boss,” Nico hisses to Lewis. “How did he know you were here? Did you tell him?”   
  
“I didn’t tell him anything,” Lewis says, stopping in the doorway as Nico holds up his hand as though to signal for Lewis to stay where he is. Nico carefully opens the door, his gun still held in his hands.    
  
“Where’s Lewis?” Toto slurs out as he comes face to face with Nico - he’s swaying slightly, his pupils are blown and it’s clear that he has been drinking.   
  
“How did you get in here?” Nico says, ignoring the question.    
  
Toto laughs slightly under his breath. “It was easy enough, Rosberg, I have my ways,” He smiles widely, it’s almost manic. “Now, where is my client? I know he’s here somewhere, you drag him here to fuck him again, fuck with his head huh?”   
  
“It’s not like that, Toto,” Nico says carefully.    
  
“I know exactly how it is, taking him off to your little love-nest, ply him with wine, make love to him again,” Toto slurs. “You were supposed to be the best, but you didn’t realise what is in front of you,” He laughs to himself.    
  
“What are you talking about? Go home, you’re drunk,” Nico says, confused.    
  
“I can’t,” Toto says. “I need to speak to Lewis,” He slumps against the side of the doorway, calling out Lewis’s name.   
  
“Toto, what’s going on?” Lewis says, his arms folded, his eyes guarded as he steps up behind Nico.    
  
“I need to speak to you alone,” Toto slurs out. “Without Pretty Boy here,”   
  
“Anything you have to say to me, you can say it in front of Nico,” Lewis says defiantly.    
  
“Okay, fair enough,” Toto says, smiling as he reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a stack of letters. They look familiar - the same white sheafs of paper that have been dropping onto Lewis’s floor for months now, Lewis can make out hundreds and hundreds of typed out lines. He recoils instantly, his mouth dropping open. “I tried to be the nice guy, be the person I thought you wanted me to be,” Toto says carefully, his dark eyes burning into Lewis. “But it was never enough for you,”   
  
“You sent the letters to him?” Nico says, incredulously.    
  
“I did, I sent them anonymously, it wasn’t easy but I managed it, he was opening up to me, then you came along with your measures and it got difficult, I had to keep playing my role of concerned manager, pretend I knew nothing of the letters,”   
  
“You son of a bitch,” Nico snarls, his fingers tighten around the gun. “So let me guess, you’re the guy after him too then?”   
  
“No, no,” Toto waves his hand around as though to dismiss the blonde. “I took out a life insurance policy on Lewis, it wasn’t hard to forge his signature -” He pauses for a moment. “I figured that if I couldn’t have you, nobody could-” He turns his dark eyes on Lewis. “I hired a hit on you,”   
  
“Call him off,” Nico snarls. “You idiot, you have no idea what you’ve done,”   
  
“I know exactly what I’m doing, Mr Rosberg,” Toto says, laughing. “It’s all paid for, he’ll just keep going until it’s done,”   
  
Nico’s face turns pale at Toto’s words. “You don’t mean that,” He says, carefully.    
  
“I mean every word, Mr Rosberg,” Toto says, his eyes shining. “I’ll be rich again, I can retire and go to the Bahamas with the money I make off Lewis’s death-” He smiles widely. “He promised me that you’d feel no pain, that you’d die quickly, my love-” However, Toto doesn’t get to finish his sentence as the sound of a gunshot pierces the air. Nico watches with wide eyes as blood suddenly gushes from Toto’s stomach and he slumps to the floor unmoving.    
  
“Lewis! Move back!” Nico commands, drawing his gun. The gunman stands before Nico, clad in a dark ski mask, he pants heavily as his blue eyes move from Toto’s unmoving body to Nico still standing in the doorway, gun drawn. A moment of silence stretches out between the two men before the ski-mask clad man turns on his heel, running down the corridor as quickly as he can. Nico follows, his gun drawn as he stalks after the man. He stops as the corridor dips into the stairwell, moving into the wall as much as he can before he tests the waters, kicking the door open. But there’s no scuffle of sound, no gunshot that greets him as he pushes open the door, glancing upwards to see if the hitman has gone up the stairs. However, there’s the scrape of a shoe. Nico can hear a finger scrape over the trigger. He doesn’t move an inch.  He breathes in and out, carefully, his gun steady.    
  
There’s no sound for a moment before footwells rattle down the concrete stairs, Nico follows the sound carefully, taking each step carefully until he hears the slamming of the door at the bottom of the block and breaks into a run. He hears an engine roar into life as he slams the front door open, barrelling through it. Nico sees nothing but the red lights at the back of a black car as it peels out of the car park near the apartments. Cursing under his breath, he lifts his gun once more and empties his cartridge at it in anger. The glass shatters but the car continues speeding down the road before it turns around the corner and vanishes from sight.    
  
“Shit,” Nico says under his breath as he quickly moves back through the door, back up to Lewis. He keeps his gun drawn, just in case there’s another hitman - but as he approaches the room, he sees Lewis slumped over Toto’s unmoving body. He picks up his pace, his face paling as his fingers tighten on his gun.    
  
“Lewis, Lewis!” He calls out, only to find that Lewis is very much alive, he’s curled around Toto’s body, dry heaving sobs wracking his whole body.    
  
“He’s dead,” He says, turning wet, haunted eyes to Nico, there’s a smear of blood on his cheek. “He’s dead, Nico-”   
  
Nico glances down at Toto, at the blood staining Lewis’s hands and calls the police.    
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis sits inside his black limousine, silent and weary, his eyes rimmed with red as he watches the rain fall against the tinted windows. Nico doesn’t say anything, his fingers only tighten on his gun as he watches the crowds of people all crowd in around the limousine. They only disappear when the limousine draws past the gates to Lewis’s home, he still says nothing as Nico opens the door and ushers him out.    
  
Nico watches Lewis carefully as he sinks into the leather sofa and pours himself a glass of whiskey. He knocks it back, tears still streaking down his face as he heavily sits the glass on the table. “Why are you still here?” He says, breaking the silence.    
  
Nico says nothing as Lewis stands up, swaying slightly on his feet as he moves closer to Nico. His fists beat against Nico’s chest but still the blonde doesn’t retaliate, he grits his teeth and allows the dark-skinned man to beat against his chest, to hit out at him, sobs tearing from his throat. “You didn’t protect him! It was your job to save me and he died doing it...it was me he was after and you just...just let him die,” Lewis says, choking. His blows lose strength as he slumps against Nico, sobibng into his chest. “I didn’t love him enough, I didn’t love him in the way he wanted…”   
  
Nico is still silent, his arms moving to clasp around Lewis, stroking his back softly. “Do you think he really wanted me dead?” Lewis says, turning his tear filled eyes to Nico. “Is this ever going to be over?”   
  
Nico shakes his head. “He knows he still hasn’t got you,”   
  
“So he’ll come again?”   
  
Nico nods again.    
  
“The Grammys?” Lewis says fearfully.    
  
“It’s possible,” Nico says, his fingers still ghosting over Lewis’s back.    
  
“I’m probably crazy and you’re probably going to hate me, but I can’t stay here and hide from everything,” Lewis says, glancing up at Nico’s eyes. “You can understand how important this is, and I didn’t get to this place in my life by doing the smart thing all the time,”   
  
“You took risks,” Nico says quietly.    
  
Lewis nods against his chest. “How about you, Nico Rosberg? Did you ever do something that never really made much sense to anyone but yourself? Something that wasn’t smart? I bet you did, nobody gets good without it, and you’re good,” He pauses for a moment. “I don’t know why all of this is happening to me...but I do know that it’s not your fault. I’m sorry,”   
  
Nico nods, accepting the apology.    
  
“So i’m going to go out there and see if I win this Grammy, I’m not going to worry about it, because I’ve got you to protect me,”   
  
“That’s right,” Nico says carefully. He stares into Lewis’s eyes for a moment, his fingers sliding over the rapper’s back, their eyes lock before Lewis moves closer to brush their lips together. They lose themselves, lips moving over each other, hands exploring the curves of skin, Nico’s body ghosts over Lewis’s, protecting him even in that moment.    



	6. Six

It’s Grammy’s night - the limousines are parked along the pavement, the red carpet is laid out ready for the stars to walk, the crowd are screaming as the limousine doors open and the stars step out onto the carpet in their sparkly dresses and their shiny tuxes, giving bright smiles to the camera as they sashay down the line towards the press, shouting their names, the flashes bright against the darkening sky. Lewis is sitting in his limousine, worrying his lip as he smooths out the creases in his sparkly black suit. Nico watches the entrance to the award ceremony; the cameras, the people screaming, the photographers, the bright lights almost blinding. Lewis watches the blonde’s eyes gaze over the crowd, his fingers tighten on his gun.    
  
“Relax a little,” Lewis says quietly. “Nothing bad is going to happen out there alright?” He says, his hand moving over Nico’s knee. “Unless I lose the fucking award,” He grins widely, before he inspects his hair in the reflection of the tinted window.    
  
“I’m through with worrying,” Lewis says as he finger combs his hair once more. “When your number’s up, it’s up, right?”   
  
Nico doesn’t answer as the limousine draws nearer to the carpet. He gets out of the car first, surveying the scene before him before he holds the door for Lewis. His glances moves to the crowds, screaming out Lewis’s name, to the photographers who immediately spring into action as Lewis exits the limousine with a wide award-winning smile pasted onto his face. He stops, waving to the crowd, before he begins striding up the red carpet. Nico follows, worrying his lip between his teeth.    
  


* * *

  
  
Nico’s panic doesn’t fade even when Lewis is given his schedule in the green room - he’s announcing one of the awards before he has be back in his seat ready for the Record of the Year announcement. Lewis nods at the producer, taking the paper and glancing over it once before passing it back.    
  
“So we need you to announce the finalists for the Best New Artist with Sebastian Vettel, a song will be performed by Jay Z, then we have Song of the Year, then Beyonce will come on and sing, then Album of the Year,” The producer says in a monotone voice. “After that, you’ll need to be be in your seat for-”   
  
Lewis nods carefully as he glances around the room. “Sounds simple enough,” He says, smiling widely.    
  
The evening seems to run smoothly enough - Nico never leaves Lewis’s side as he chatters amongst the other performers waiting to grace the stage, a glass of champagne in his hand as he smiles at Jay Z and jokes around with Taylor Swift. Nico decides to explore the venue for a moment whilst Lewis is engaged in conversation. He moves down the hall, taking in the sights around him - technicians hiss at each other in hushed tones, stagehands scramble around to ensure each performance is perfect, the last performer walks off the stage, holding a sweaty towel in her manicured fingers. Nico rounds the corner and comes face to face with a familiar face.    
  
“Jenson?” He says, wide eyed. “What are you doing here?”   
  
“I’m on the job,” Jenson says, smiling.    
  
“Who?” Nico asks, raising an eyebrow.    
  
Jenson nods over to the screen where Bernie Ecclestone, the master of the ceremony, is performing. “Him,”   
  
Nico bites his lip as he watches Bernie’s aging face over the screen. “And now, it’s time to hear an incredible rendition of Not Letting Me Through covered by the wonderful Sergio Perez!” He tells the baying audience who cheer as the man enters the stage with a wide smile ghosting over his lips. Nico watches the screen intently, hearing the familiar chords move over his ears. Jenson watches him for a moment, his eyes fixed on the blonde. Bernie Ecclestone walks off the stage a few feet away from the two blonde men, glances at them and moves off down the hall.    
  
“Back to work, I guess, I’ll see you soon, Nico?” Jenson says, following the older man. Nico watches him go, thoughtfully. He turns his attention back to the screens, to Sergio Perez’s haunting voice and feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end.    
  
“Tonight’s the night,” He says to himself as he hurries back to the room.    
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis is waiting in the wings, waiting for his cue to enter onto the stage. Nico moves towards the dark-skinned man, anxiety inching over his skin, his face is pale and he’s worrying his lip.    
  
“What’s wrong?” Lewis asks, quietly. He can sense Nico’s anxiety, he glances into the fear-filled green eyes and feels the panic flood over his chest. “Nico, what-”   
  
“Lewis, you’re up next,” One of the producers says - he barely looks at Lewis, doesn’t take in the paling face, the dark eyes filled with fear. Lewis forces a smile at the producer as he looks around nervously for a moment. Sebastian appears with a wide smile.    
  
“Sorry, I’m late,” He says, grinning at the producer. “Nice to finally meet you,” He says to Lewis.   
  
“Nice to meet you too,” Lewis replies.    
  
“Now, you two are going to enter the stage together, smile, look happy,” The producer instructs. Sebastian takes Lewis’s arm and pats it in an almost soothing motion.    
  
“Try to relax, Lewis, I know you must be excited,” Sebastian says, smiling at him. Lewis gives him a weak smile back as he spots Bernie striding onto the stage.    
  
“I used to have an outfit just like that, Taylor,” Bernie jokes, smiling lewdly. “And now, to present the award for Best Newcomer are two men - one has just finished a worldwide tour and is about to release a new album and the other is a man who is number one in the charts right now, the Brit who is tearing it up across the world, please welcome Mr Sebastian Vettel and Mr Lewis Hamilton!”   
  
The audience seem to roar as Sebastian and Lewis enter the stage, smiling widely and waving at the audience.    
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis holds onto Sebastian’s arm as they stand side by side at the podium - he’s distracted by the sight around him, the people are all seated in rows before him, staring down at him under the bright lights. There’s television cameras everywhere he looks, their lights blinking away, the orchestra in the pits waiting for their cue and the teleprompter in front of the podium - a black background on which their lines in bright green move vertically up the screen.    
  
“Well, Lewis,” Sebastian says, reading from the autocue with a smile. “I know you only came tonight to present this award and then you’re going home,” There’s a chuckle from the audience but it doesn’t register with Lewis who glances around the room nervously, missing his cue entirely.    
  
“This award is one that I won when I first burst onto the scene five years ago, it is an award that recognises pure, raw talent,”   
  
The lines continue rolling down the teleprompter - however, Lewis misses his cue once more, his hand tightens around Sebastian’s wrist. Sebastian smiles widely and improvises the lines himself.    
  
“The nominees for New Artist of the Year are Kimi Raikkonen, Romain Grosjean, Max Verstappen, Carlos Sainz Jr and Kevin Magnussen,”   
  
Lewis remains silent for a moment, glancing around his surroundings - an usher shifts ever so slightly to the right, the conductor’s dark eyes are locked on him, a musician is turning his sheet music. He bites the inside of his mouth and tastes blood.    
  
“Okay, Seb, let’s find out who the winner is,” Lewis finally blurts out. He accepts the golden envelope from Sebastian, his hands lightly shaking as he struggles to control himself. “And the winner is-” He says, shakily, as he tears open the envelope, trying not to picture the letters that Toto had written to him - picturing a neat folded white letter inside telling him in 10 point Times New Roman that he was to die. But the card inside says only two words.    
  
“The winner is...is...Kevin Magnussen,” Lewis says as the crowd erupts into applause. Lewis backs away from the podium as Kevin enters the stage with a wide smile, accepting the award from Sebastian. Lewis holds it together for the few seconds that Kevin is allowed for his speech - the man’s words seem to blur together as Lewis glances around himself, his whole body tense and waiting. He quickly dashes off the stage as quickly as he can. Nico’s eyes watch him leave before he moves off in the rapper’s direction.    
  


* * *

  
  
Sebastian hovers worriedly as Lewis sits on one of the couches, numb and despondent. People fuss around him, fixing his hair and his make up but Lewis doesn’t respond to anyone. “What’s wrong with me?” He mutters to himself, his dark eyes fixed on the floor before him.    
  
“Lewis,” Nico says, pushing through the crowd, his voice breathless. Lewis’s head immediately snaps up at the sound of his voice.    
  
“They all think I’m crazy, Nico,” He says, half laughing as a tear brushes its way down his face only to disappear under the make-up ladies powder brush. Bernie bustles his way through the crowd. “Are you okay, Lewis?” He asks, his face full of worry.    
  
“I’m fine, Bernie, thanks,” Lewis says, his voice sounds watery, unsure. Bernie nods once before he turns to go back on the stage and introduce the next act. However, Nico catches the old man’s wrist before he can disappear. Bernie shoots him a dirty look.    
  
“Can I help you?”   
  
“Where’s Button?” Nico asks, eyes narrowed.    
  
“Who?” Bernie asks, clearly annoyed at being held up.    
  
“Jenson Button, your bodyguard,” Nico says.    
  
“Never heard of him,” Bernie cuts in before he pulls his wrist away. “I really must go, I have a show to attend-”   
  
Nico watches him leave, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicking together. He dashes off back to the green room as quickly as he can, his heart beating against his ribcage.    
  


* * *

  
  
“I can’t believe this,” Lewis says, pushing a hand through his hair as he glances at himself in the mirror. “I can’t believe I was such an idiot in front of all of those people,”    
  
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr Hamilton,” One of the producers says, stepping into the room. “But if you’re going to be in your seat for the Record of the Year award, you’ve got to do it now,”   
  
Lewis gives the man a glare. “I’m going as fast as I can, if tonight is the night I win a Grammy, I’m not doing it with messy hair and a spot on my chin,” He hisses as the producer backs off. Lewis rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe this, I’m going crazy,”   
  
“There’s something going on you should know about,” Nico says, slamming through the door, his eyes wide and panicked. “Lewis, I know who it is, he’s here tonight-”   
  
“Enough,” Lewis says dangerously. He throws down the microphone pack before him, his face twisting in anger. “Just stop this, Nico, you never stop, you made me look like a complete idiot in front of everyone who is part of the music industry tonight,”    
  
“But, Lewis, Jenson is-” Nico begins.    
  
“Enough, Nico, just stop,” Lewis says, before he turns on his heels and walks swiftly out of the room to take his place in the stands. Nico watches him leave, worrying his lip between his teeth.    
  


* * *

  
  
“Now it’s time to present one of the most prestigious awards - the Record of the Year,” Mika Hakkinen, the host of the award, says with a wide smile. “It brings back some great memories to be stood here -” His voice fades out as Nico watches, his eyes scanning, searching over the vast theatre as he tries to see beyond the glare of the lights and the cameras.    
  
“Tonight, this award goes to not only the best record that has captured our hearts, but to the best performance by one of five talented artists-”   
  
Nico continues to search the audience, his eyes fall over the giant screen showcasing Lewis’s anxious face, he watches over the path that Lewis would have to take to the stage, the faces of the ushers, the conductor ready to play the music -   
  
“And the nominees for Record of the Year are - Kimi Raikkonen with I Don’t Care,” Applause ripples through the building as Nico slips through the curtained doorway leading to the backstage, drawing his gun.    
  
“Sebastian Vettel with I’m Going Home, Taylor Swift with Bad Blood, Beyonce with Formation-”    
  
Nico stops behind a curtain, six feet away from the path the winner will take. He glances up to the stage, to a cameraman hoisting his camera onto his shoulder.    
  
“And Lewis Hamilton with Still I Rise,” Mika announces to applause. Nico’s eyes narrow as he takes in the cameraman still hovering in the wings with his camera, Nico catches sight of his face. It’s Jenson. He clicks the safety off his gun as his eyes follow Jenson for a moment before they move back to where Lewis is sitting.    
  
“And the winner is… Lewis Hamilton!” Mika announces. The crowd seem to explode as a stunned Lewis gets to his feet. People around him reach out to touch him, Nico’s eyes never leave the dark-skinned man, his face grim as he watches Lewis walk along his row as the orchestra plays a muted version of Still I Rise. People stand up in their seats around him and a television camera swoops down from the ceiling, obscuring Nico’s view of Lewis for a brief moment.    
  
Nico continues to desperately scan the crowd, his heart thumping against his ribcage. Suddenly, his face freezes as Lewis reaches the centre aisle and begins walking towards the steps with a wide smile on his face, Nico spots Jenson - the camera held on his shoulder as he moves level with Lewis, roughly twenty feet behind the rapper. Nico takes a deep breath and raises his gun.    
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis walks down the aisle, tears stinging in his eyes to the roaring applause and the shouts of his name as he passes people, unaware of the danger lurking behind him. He thinks nothing of Nico, of the dangers he’s faced as he glances up at the six steps before him, at Mika beaming widely, holding the beautiful gold award that will be his.    
  
Nico curses under his breath, his gun held steady as he watches Jenson disappear before his eyes, the audience members standing up to applaud Lewis as he passes them. Nico worries his lips as he watches Lewis for a moment, hidden amongst the heads of the audience members - he knows that he can’t get a clear shot at Jenson without hurting anyone else in the process. He lowers his gun ever so slightly, he can’t take the risk.    
  
Nico watches Lewis approach the podium, tears still glittering in his eyes as he carefully mounts the steps. His vision seems to blur under the intensity of the lights - Lewis becomes nothing more than a sparkly blur as he crosses over the stage at deafening applause.    
  
Nico can’t see Lewis at all - the glaring lights are too bright - he thinks about how vulnerable Lewis is in that moment, he thinks about the smile that Lewis gave him, thinks about Lewis’s eyes trusting as they made love, thinks about Lewis’s lips ghosting over his own - Lewis’s brown eyes melt into blue as he thinks about Schumi, about the man he loved, blood ghosting over his shirt, his eyes wide and frightened as his lips parted around Nico’s name - he can’t lose Lewis, he can’t lose him - he leaps onto the stage, moving in front of Lewis.    
  
Lewis barely has time to turn his head, his eyes widening with shock as he feels Nico’s body barrel into him, his lips parting around one word - Nico - as the pistol taped to the side of the camera fires twice. The silence hangs in the air for a moment as Lewis and Nico tumble over on the floor. Screams soon tear through the audience as pandemonium breaks out. Lewis glances up at Nico fearfully as men run onto the stage from all directions, their guns drawn, yelling at each other. The cameras pan in all directions, some of them focus on the crowd, the others on the fallen bodies of Lewis and Nico.    
  
Jenson seems to fade into the background. He’s calm and collected as he slowly backs away, sinking into the chaos around him. He barely blinks as ushers and security guards push past him in their haste to get on the stage. He smiles, his cold blue eyes catching Nico’s.   
  


* * *

  
  
Lewis is pulled away from Nico, people scream in his face, they seem to blur together, their voices barely audible as they gesture down at Lewis’s shirt. Lewis glances down to see his outfit smeared with blood - the red is stark against the white of his shirt.    
  
“Nico-” He begins, glancing down at Nico’s chest. His white shirt is smeared with bright red blood and he’s panting heavily. He doesn’t answer as he stretches out his hand, pain distorting his features, as he pulls Lewis back down. The gun in his other hand sweeps over the auditorium as his green eyes move over the crowd, trying to seek out Jenson.  His vision moves over blurred faces, over people running out of the doors - Nico catches a glimpse of a man who could be Jenson - blonde hair, muscular - he turns. It’s not him. Nico curses under his breath, ignoring the numbness spreading over his chest, pain creeping over his face. 

He finally spots the man he’s been looking for - as four officers pound past him, unaware of the gun still held steadily on Lewis and Nico. Nico returns the gaze, his gun steady, his arm still holding Lewis down. There’s another scream which draws Jenson’s attention away from the blonde for a moment - it’s enough time for Nico to squeeze the trigger and fire twice. The crowd seem to scatter further, screams echoing through the emptying building. Nico doesn’t focus on the surroundings, he watches as the first of his bullets slams Jenson against the wall, knocking the breath out of him and the second hits the camera on his shoulder, shattering it into small pieces. Nico holds his aim steady, reluctant to look away until Jenson slumps against the wall, unmoving. He feels the gun fall from his hand as his gaze turns to Lewis, unhurt and glancing over him with worried eyes.    
  
“Nico, you’re hurt-” Lewis whispers, tears moving down his cheeks as he takes in the blood spreading over Nico’s shirt.    
  
“It’s okay, you’re safe and that’s all that matters,” Nico says, wincing as the pain begins to settle in over his bones. Lewis shakes his head, his hand finding Nico’s as he squeezes tightly, shaking his head.    
  
“Nico, please don’t-” Lewis whispers, his eyes widening as he presses his fingers against Nico’s wounds, the blood flowing over his shiny suit jacket as the tears continue to fall. “You can’t do this-”   
  
Nico smiles, coughing lightly, blood splattering over his hand as he turns his eyes to Lewis. “I protected you from harm, that’s all that matters to me,” He says quietly, his hand moving to graze over Lewis’s cheek, smearing the dark skin with blood.    
  
“Nico, don’t say things like that,” Lewis says, the crowd around them seems to blur before their eyes, the screams fade away into nothing, Lewis’s hands covered in warm scarlet blood, the envelope with his name on smeared with the liquid. Lewis turns his dark eyes to Nico, lifting one of his hands to his cheek and pressing kisses against the skin. “I need you to stay with me,”   
  
Nico remains silent for a moment before he presses his fingers to Lewis’s lips. “It’s okay, Lew,” He pauses for a moment. “Better me than you, right?”   
  
Lewis shakes his head as his lips dance over Nico’s pale blood-covered skin. “You can’t, you can’t leave me here, what if some other psycho tries to get me?” Sirens scream out in the night. Nico tries to laugh but he winces in pain as his eyes lock with Lewis’s.    
  
“I’m sure you’ll manage,” He coughs out again, his spittle full of blood, his hands squeeze Lewis’s tighter as the blood continues to pour out through his white shirt.   
  
“I love you, isn’t that enough?” Lewis whispers over the din of the crowd.   
  
Nico nods quietly, his eyes searching Lewis’s. “It was always enough, Lew,” He whispers back, his lips pressing over Lewis’s hand before his hold on the rapper slackens, his fingers falling to the floor. Lewis’s brown eyes fill with tears, sobs rip from his ribcage as he watches Nico’s eyes slowly close, his lips parted as though to tell Lewis that he loves him too, but he falls silent, his breathing enveloped by the screams and the sirens as Lewis’s tears continue to fall, one single one landing on Nico’s face.    
  
“I love you,” Lewis whispers once more.


End file.
